


The Holtzmann-Rogers Plan of Action

by krycekasks



Category: Captain America (Movies), Ghostbusters (2016), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Fluff and Crack, Fluff and Humor, Great British Bake Off - Freeform, Holtzbert - Freeform, M/M, Misunderstanding, Rogers and Holtz are scamps!, allusion to disturbing human experimentation, description of a cut / bleeding, description of an asthma attack / difficulty breathing, dream/flashback with gun violence and killing, ghostbusting, shrinkyclinks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2017-08-19
Packaged: 2018-12-16 17:30:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 43,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11833575
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/krycekasks/pseuds/krycekasks
Summary: Why have one five foot one-ish obstinate blond with no sense of self-preservation issues and a propensity for getting into trouble when you can have two for twice the price? Only by working together do they stand a chance of getting their best friends to fall in love with them. Throw in experimental robotic arms, ghost hunting and internationally renowned televised baking competition and a cunning plan, what could possibly go wrong?(aka the one where Steve is an art professor in love with his best friend, the former Special Forces sniper Bucky Barnes, who lost and arm in combat and tests experimental prostheses for Jillian Holtzmann, who is in love with her best friend Erin Gilbert, paranormal expert and Steve’s colleague. While Erin and Bucky vie for Star Baker in the Great British Bake Off, Holtzmann and Rogers devise a plan to win their hearts.)





	The Holtzmann-Rogers Plan of Action

**Author's Note:**

> This is for my friend Pipey - I TOLD you we could have all of our fandoms in one story ;D
> 
> Many thanks and bone-crushing hugs for [thelittleblackfox](http://archiveofourown.org/users/littleblackfox) for encouragement, reading my stuff, keeping me sane, introducing me to the GBBO (especially in a stucky context!) and just generally being brilliant on a daily basis - go read her amazing stories and you'll see what I mean.
> 
> More thanks to the wonderfully talented [frau-argh](http://archiveofourown.org/users/TrishArgh/pseuds/TrishArgh) for taking a chance on this story and producing some amazing and inspiring art :D - go be amazed by all their work!

#  The Holtzmann-Rogers Plan of Action 

####  Written by krycekasks 

####  Artwork by frau-argh 

##  Prelude: About our Heroes 

Steve Rogers is an art professor at South Humber College in North Lincolnshire. Born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, he moved to England for work and to follow his best friend and fellow New Yorker, James 'Bucky' Barnes, who just happens to be the love of his life.  
Bucky and Steve have been inseparable since birth, except for the three tours of duty Bucky served as a U.S. Special Forces sniper. Honourably discharged after an incident in the field took his left arm, Bucky agreed to become a Stark Industries Advanced Cybernetics Division volunteer. Recommended by Tony Stark himself, Bucky moved to England to be close to Stark Industries' brilliant but eccentric lead engineer, Jillian Holtzmann, dragging his best friend Steve along with him.

Holzmann, known as 'Holtz' to her friends, is an engineering physicist infamous for her mad-scientist tendencies. Long-time collaborator with Tony Stark, who she met studying at MIT, she agreed to be his “shadow" inventor in exchange for free reign in her own lab in an obscure location and an almost unlimited budget. The pet project closest to her heart is her work on paranormal physics with her best friend since they were college roommates, Erin Gilbert. Erin also happens to be the love of her life.

Erin is a physicist and, like Steve, is a professor at the college. Ever since her first paranormal encounter with the Old Lady Ghost when she was a little girl, Erin has been a passionate researcher in paranormal physics, culminating in the publication of “Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively: The Study of the Paranormal” with friend and fellow MIT alum Abby Yates. Ridiculed by her American colleagues as a "ghost girl”, Erin has been able to leave her professional nightmare past behind to find a place at South Humber and pursue her work with Holtzmann, her best friend and one of the only people who ever believed in her.

Holtz met Steve years previous at a campus rally against animal cruelty where they bonded immediately over their obsessive dedication to a cause and their willingness to do whatever it takes to achieve their goal. Even if it means getting detained by campus security for decorating the [former] Head of the Biology Department's car using a blowtorch and a copious amount of violet sparkle paint. Since then, Holtz and Steve have become friends, bringing Bucky and Erin in to become a close knit group of 'societal outcasts’ (though Holtz prefers the term ‘rebels').

As the group spent more and more time with each other, Bucky and Erin bonded over their love of baking. What was initially a dexterity exercise testing prosthetic arms for Bucky and a stress reliever for Erin, their bakes continue to raise hundreds of pounds for local charities. On a dare, they both applied for the Great British Bake Off and got in at the same time. A friendly but fierce competition between them has arisen as they battle it out every weekend in the Baking Tent.

Meanwhile, Steve noticed the way Holtz looks at Erin and Holtz noticed the way Steve looks at Bucky. They called each other on it one sunny day in the lab and since then have made a pact to help each other win the hearts of their best friends and soul mates …

###  The week before the Great British Bake Off final …

"Well," says Steve, "this is going to be more difficult than we thought."

Holtzmann surveys the damage: the lab is in complete disarray, water still dripping ineffectually from the ancient sprinkler system, stacks of paper on forgotten desks still burning, the flames slowly petering out, mocking them. "Yep." she draws out the confirmation of their stunning failure in a drawl, popping the "p".

Steve purses his lips and turns to face Holtzmann, a look of stubborn determination in his eyes. "Holtzy, I have an idea." His voice has turned full Steven Grant Rogers, his mind once made up impervious to deflection, oblivious to sane objection.

For a split second Holtzmann gets a nervous churning in her gut. She does not mistake it for fear, but the familiar mad anticipation before a plan, a really good plan... no, a fucking awesome Holtzmann-Rogers this-will-definitely-probably-work plan !!!!! She smiles as she faces him, "This is going to be fun."

Her mad joy escalates his feeling of obstinate certainty that, yes, this time they'll ....

"WHAT THE FUCK !?!"

Steve and Holtzmann whip around, maniacal laughter dying on their lips. Instead their shoulders slump comically in unison. Erin and Bucky stand in the doorway. Erin looks around the lab, mouth agape in shock at the destruction. Bucky just glares at Steve, hands on hips, the Goddamnit Rogers look his face.

"Busted..." whispers Holtzmann. Steve just grimaces. The whine of sirens can be heard in the distance, harbingers of doom fast approaching. Not again.

##  Part 1: Up to No Good 

“Trying to hide from your students again, Professor Rogers?”

Steve walks through the door to the basement lab and spies Holtz with her back to him hunched over something on her workbench _\- How does she do that? There aren’t even any mirrors in here -_ She sets down a blow torch and shoves her goggles up on her head. As she turns around she grabs something from the side of the desk and throws it towards him. Steve neatly catches the strawberry twizzler out of the air with practiced ease. This has been their daily routine since the beginning of the summer term.

Steve rips brutally into his twizzler and grumps, “I don’t hide, I just like to hang out in the last place on campus a first year art student will ever find me.” He sits down on a nearby stool and spins around in lazy circles letting his sneakers tap against the table legs and tool chests that crowd around him. “How do you always know it’s me?” He is absolutely not pouting.

Holtz grabs her own candy, letting it hang out of the corner of her mouth. “Who else comes in here at four o’clock every day just to hang in the only lab in the bowels of this fine institution. Besides, you have a very distinct shuffle.”

“I don’t shuffle! Whatever, you probably have security cameras all the way down the hallway.”  
Holtz just gives a toothy grin, “Why I would never. Not after getting a letter from Dean McMuffin politely requesting that I remove all electronic paraphernalia from the hallways, offices and air ducts in the vicinity of mine own laboratory.”

“It’s Dean McDonald and that was your tenth such letter at the very least.”

“Someone’s grumpy, eh? Grumpy McGrumperpants? Don’t give me that look, come on, tell Holtzy all about it.”

Steve sighs and looks to the floor, “It’s nothing, really, sorry. I don’t mean to be such an ass. It’s just that, well, you know.”

“This is about your boyfriend isn’t it.”

“He’s not my boyfriend!” Steve can feel the blush creeping up his neck. His hands automatically rest around his throat as though he could physically stop the blood from rushing to his cheeks.

Holtzmann just nods and mouths the word yet, prompting Steve to repeat after her.  
Steve lets out a breath in a whoosh. “Yet,” he repeats, “I know I know, it’s harder than it seems!”

Holtzmann grabs the mess of wires and metal from her work bench and waves it around inches from Steve’s face, “THIS is harder than it seems, cybernetic appendages and neural interfaces. Quantum tunnelling and teleportation is harder than it seems. You getting it on with your best friend who you’ve been jonesing for since Star Wars first came out shouldn’t be this hard.”

“Well, it’s only been a few months …”

“I’m not talking Rogue One Rogers! I mean A New Hope and you know it. Were you or were you not diaper buddies with Bucky Barnes?”

“Fine! Yes, we were. I’m pathetic, I get it.” Steve slumps his shoulders and looks down at his shoes, jutting out his lower lip.

Holtzmann immediately moves closer and rests the mechanical hand she had been working on on Steve’s shoulder, moving it in what is meant to be comforting little circles. “Don’t give up now, Rogers, that’s like 86.3% of the reason why I like you. Your fiery pigheadedness in the face of all reason totally compliments my steady level headedness and ability to solve any problem that dares attempt to befuddle us.”

Steve looks up and gives Holtz a little smile. She bites off the end of her twizzler and offers him the rest. Steve grabs it and starts to chew. His smile starts to turn into a smirk, his eyes glinting with mischief “So, how’s it going with our dear Professor Gilbert?”

Holtz purses her lips. Her visible restraint only makes Steve grin even wider, “I cannot believe I fell for your cry baby routine. Again. It’s those baby blue doe eyes, just want to pop ‘em like candy.” Steve starts laughing and batting his eyelashes so Holtz takes the cybernetic hand and pats his cheek. Steve tries to swat it away.

“Let’s just agree that neither one of us is having much luck piquing the interest of our better halves.”

“To be fair, I have only known Erin for a quarter of the time you’ve known Barnes, and am therefore a proportionately smaller amount of pathetic as you, BUT I will agree to that statement if you will agree that you could finally use my help with your half.”

“And I will agree to THAT if you agree that you could also use my help with your half.”

Holtzmann holds out the cybernetic hand and Steve gamely shakes it. He then grabs the pinky finger of the metal hand and wraps it about his own. Holtzmann is nodding at him solemnly, “This is going to go better than the time we agreed to make the campus fountain into a baking soda volcano.”

“No one appreciates installation art! But, yes, this has got to go much better than that. How can we possibly get arrested for helping each other out with our crushes?”

They are both nodding in agreement. Steve tightens his grip on the cybernetic pinky. This is not the first time they have come up with a Plan of Action, and it certainly won’t be the last. They know what to do:

“I solemnly swear I am up to no good.”  
“I solemnly swear I am up to no good."

________________

As five o’clock rolls around, Holtzmann clears a slew of technical drawings that she and Steve had been working on off of one of the desks, revealing a controller with a single large button covered with a sticker of the cookie monster. She waves her hands over it with a flourish, “Rogers, would you care to do the honours.”

“Why, Holtzy, is it snack time already?” he smashes his hand down on the button. From a dark corner of the lab something begins to stir. A mechanical arm propped up on a dolly rolls out of the shadows towards them. It stops a few feet away from the button and starts to stretch out towards the waiting humans. In its claw like grip is a biscuit tin, filled to the brim with misshapen brandy snaps, bluish-brown macarons and oddly shaped vanilla biscuits with what looks like flat billed ducks in a beige royal icing piped on top. Steve grabs a duck and gives it a try, humming his approval, “Let me guess. It’s biscuit week on the Bake Off and Erin has been practicing on you.”

“The phallic looking ones are courtesy of Barnes. I think they were supposed to be a thank you for the last tune-up on his arm. The ones that look like dissatisfied pigeons were actually supposed to be reindeer.”

“For the gingerbread house show stopper, yeah, both Erin and Bucky ran their designs by me. Let’s just say I tweaked a few rough spots.”

“I saw the before and after Rogers. You completely redesigned them. Then I had to put some actual engineering into them so they wouldn’t crush duck billed Rudolf here.” Holtzmann prances her vanilla reindeer-esque cookie over the desks to a precarious looking pile of loose papers. She grabs the top few and hands them over to Steve. Steve unrolls the gingerbread house designs onto a lesser used drafting table and admires the results, “Between the two of us they should make it to at least week five.”

“With our luck they’ll both be in the finals.” Holtzmann shivers and looks over at Steve with a grimace. He looks back with a deep frown. It’s not that they don’t support their best friends who somehow both made it onto this year’s season of the Great British Bake Off, and it’s definitely not that they don’t appreciate the vast amount of bakes that they have tested over the past couple of weeks. It’s just that Bucky and Erin take obsessive and passive aggressive competitiveness to another level.

“I swear you two were separated at birth. Ooooooh are those my gingerbread house plans?” Erin pokes her head between Holtzmann and Steve to look at the plans. “Oh, are those Bucky’s?” she points to the plans that Steve is rolling back up, the picture of innocence.

Evasive manoeuvres are called for “Just because Steve and I are both blond, blue eyed, gorgeous and exactly five foot one and five-sevenths inches in height doesn’t mean we came from the same incubator.”

Erin is trying to suppress a smile but failing, “Right. Or the fact that you both have a propensity for trouble. Definitely not the fact that you were born in the same city in the same year within days of each other. ”

Holtzmann balks, “Just because I was born on Canada Day doesn’t make me Canadian."

“Though, I was born on the fourth of July and I am an American. Anyhow, I would never wear goggles at all times even when I sleep and shower, for one thing.”

“It keeps the soap out of my eyes.” Holtzmann retorts in all seriousness.

Erin gives a little hurumph of a laugh, "Roll your eyes any harder Steve and they'll stick that way, that's just science fact, sorry." She gives a shrug to Steve's skeptical but pointedly non-eye-rolly look.

Steve looks between Holtz and Erin then back to Holtz who is staring at Erin with what can only be described as the saddest pining face he has ever seen. Heh, he knows what to do about that, and makes a sudden turn towards to door throwing over his shoulder, “I’m going to Fox's place, you guys want anything?"

Erin isn’t interested, but he lip-syncs along with Holtz's order, "The usual, Rogers, extra spicy, you know the specs.”

Before he leaves Steve sneaks a glance over his shoulder: Erin is turning towards Holtzmann who is trying her best to look like she was staring really hard at the blackboard covered in messy equations right over Erin’s shoulder. He catches her eye and makes a kissy face while pointing at Erin. Holtz looks like she’s fit to murder him which only makes him smile and wink It’s the little things in life He chuckles to himself and heads off to Fox’s Den, their favourite cafe-bar, at as slow a pace as he can manage. Shuffle, shuffle, shuffle.

________________

“What are you so mad at?” Erin questions and glances over her shoulder and spies the white board laced with equations in a messy scrawl , “Are you working on the relativistic expansion of our spectral field dynamics equations?.” She turns back around and faces Holtz with a disapproving look, both hands on her hips, “You know how you get when the dampening coefficient doesn’t cancel out the radial momentum term in the denominator. I told you, we don’t need to consider it for practical application.”

“Yeah yeah, no ghosts in space. Who needs an ecto-containment unit while travelling to Proxima Centauri. Not astronauts I guess, hmph." Holtz can feel herself wanting to bring up the old arguments which would be counterproductive to the current mission of wooing her best friend, to say the least _\- Dating manual page 10 paragraph 3: Talk about her interests -_ She points at the drafting table with the gingerbread house showstopper designs. "Let me show you how I have saved Rogers' design from execution failure."

They huddle together in front of the drafting table, Holtz pointing out the modifications and Erin working out how to bake dovetail joinery into gingerbread form.

Erin turns to Holtz as she rolls up the plans, "So, there is a thing tonight at the main auditorium."

Holtzmann turns to look at Erin and swallows hard when she realizes how close they got while going over the plans _\- When did she get nine, no ten freckles on her nose, oh my gods that’s so cute ahhhhhh say something -_ "A thing?" Good one.

Erin smiles, "Yeah, Dr. Jane Foster is visiting and giving a public lecture tonight on cross-dimensional phenomena and climate change from a quantum mechanics point of view. I thought we could go, then maybe get a drink at Fox's after?"

Holtz can feel her smile stretching while Erin talks _\- She even has a few on her cheeks, when she smiles they move .... I just got asked a question okay okay okay -_ "Yeah, yeah that sounds good."

Erin grins and pushes away from the table heading for the door, "Great! Maybe we can talk to Dr. Foster about the implications of our containment field equations with her cross-dimensional approach."

_Ahhhhh don't leave -_ “Wait, wait wait. I have something….” Holtz pats down her overalls _\- Seriously? Why do I have so many pockets?? -_ Erin turns away from the door and heads back over to Holtz’s work bench where she is dumping tools and parts from the depths of the pouches down her leg. Finally she finds what she’s looking for, moves to face Erin and holds something out to her in both hands.

Erin sets down her rolled up plans, reaches out and gently takes the proffered gift out of Holtz’s hand. Her eyes round comically as she whispers reverently, “Your Swiss Army knife.”

As Erin inspects it, Holtz pulls on her ear nervously, accidentally knocking her goggles askew and manages to get out some sort of explanation, “Yeah, yeah … I was thinking, after looking at your gingerbread house design that you could use something precise, not like proton beam precise, but sharp, to get the detail work right? I’ve had it forever and it has never let me down, and neither have you, you know, so, yeah, I want you to have it.”

Erin smiles down at the knife, slipping the blade in and out of its sheath, “Thank you.” She looks up, grinning, and grabs Holtz’s hand that had been bothering her ear, giving it a squeeze. Holtz suddenly feels like a deer caught in headlights and swallows hard. Staring back at Erin smiling down at her, she starts to smile back _\- Do something Holtzy Don’t chicken out now Move your body Say something!!! -_ Holtz continues her inner berating, smile frozen. Erin still hasn’t let go of her and as she starts to reach out towards Holtz’s face with her other hand a little strangled noise gets caught in Holtz’ throat _\- She’s going to touch my face she’s going to..._

"Holtzy! You want shredded carrot and houmous or the roasted veggies and mozzarella? And before you complain, no, they did not have any breakfast burritos left probably because we're like 16 hours after actual breakfast time."

Erin looks startled and jerks her hand a bit. In an aborted move she starts patting Holtz's hair like she's a bobble head. She grimaces apologetically at Holtz who can do nothing but pout. Erin straightens out Holtz's goggles and pulls her hand away quickly, turning to look at something on the desk. Holtz looks over at Steve and sneers but he's not looking at her.

_Goddammit Rogers -_ "Goddammit, Rogers. I'll take the veggies." Holtz thrusts her arm out and motions with her hand impatiently. Steve slaps the sandwich in her palm, oblivious as always to the interruption he's caused.

Erin heads towards the door again looking back over her shoulder, "OK, I have office hours with my minions but I'll be back to pick you up for the lecture around quarter to."

Holtz gives a salute and pointedly ignores Steve who is facing her, eyes wide, mouthing silently _A date?????_

Erin pauses again at the door, "Oh, and Steve? You and Bucky want to come out for drinks later?"

Holtz holds Rogers eyes and tries to will him to refuse but of course the fucker just smiles at her, turns around and is about to stab Holtz in the back when Erin adds, "We'd invite you to the Astro-series lecture tonight, but you know, science."

Steve grabs a duck biscuit from the tin and lobs it at Erin's cackling form retreating from the lab, "Your reindeer look like ducks!" He runs out into the hallway and yells after her, "You owe me a pint for that!" If he squints he can see her giving him a thumbs up, probably _\- I need some non-scientist friends -_ He turns back to Holtzmann and declares, indignant, "I watch Cosmos, I know stuff."

"You fall asleep watching Cosmos, there’s a difference. And, no, you can't come for drinks, because you'll be busy with your own love life, not messing up mine."

“Fiiiiiiiine. So a lecture, eh? Romantic.” Steve takes a bite of his sandwich and stares off towards the back of the lab, contemplating, "Low light. Sitting close. Nice.”

Holtz sweeps the end of her workbench clear with her arm and starts to unwrap her sandwich. She takes a bite and smirks at Steve, “The best part is that Erin is the one who came up with the idea of drinks afterwards."

They eat in comfortable silence, each fretting internally of what they should each do next to win the heart of their best friend. Steve chews the last bit of his dinner and starts to fold the sandwich paper in neat squares. “What if…what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” He looks over at Holtz with no small measure of fear in his eyes, "What if we just make fools of ourselves?”

Holtz finishes chewing and takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly, visually fortifying herself. “I think you already know the answer to that, Rogers.”

Steve looks up at her and nods in agreement. He does know the answer, it’s basically his answer to any challenge in life, to just swallow the fear, do it anyway and say,

"Fuck it."  
"Fuck it.”

They both declare simultaneously. Steve narrows his eyes in response to Holtz's lip curling up.  
Then,

"Jinx."  
"Jinx.”

"Double jinx."  
"Double jinx.”

"Stop it!"  
"Stop it!"

Just as Steve is about to declare triple jinx Holtz punches him in the arm, "Ow! What the hell? This ain't punch buggy!" Holtz unrepentantly sticks her tongue out at him so Steve hits her right back in the arm as hard as he can.

Holtz is indignant, "Ow! There aren’t any punch backs in this situa..."

Steve cuts her off with a punch to her other arm, "Yes, there is."

Holtz goes to hit Steve upside the head but only manages a weak slap on his cheek while rubbing her sore arm, "No there ARE not, grammar wizard."

Steve has a hand glued to his cheek, mouth fallen open in shock oh no she didn't He slaps her back but only his fingers manage a swipe across her chin as he leans back as far as possible to avoid another hit, "Yes there ARE!"

They carry on like this for a few minutes, leaning away from each other with both arms flailing in a mess between them to a chorus of "No there are NOT!" and "YES there ARE!" As the yelling quickly devolves into “Screw you!" "No, screw YOU!" they fail to notice the lab door opening and a hand coming down hard on the desk beside them. The bang startles them both and they whip around to face towards the sound. Steve lets out a high pitched scream which further startles Holtz who gives a yell and throws the remnants of her sandwich towards the intruder.

Bucky neatly snatches the sandwich wrapper out of the air but a stray piece of eggplant lands right in the middle of his chest. He doesn’t even bother to look down, just glares daggers between Steve and Holtz.

“You here for your hand job, Barnes?” Holtz asks as though nothing had happened. She waves a stray robot hand up and down in a vaguely rude gesture. Steve bites down hard on his lip but is unable to stifle the guffaw from escaping. Bucky crumples the sandwich paper and whips it at Steve’s face. Steve ducks, “Hey! I didn’t throw it!”

“You scream like my kid sister, Rogers.” He bumps Steve’s shoulder playfully as he walks past him towards Holtz.

“Considering Becca has like five times my muscle mass I’ll take that as a compliment,” grumbles Steve as he follows his friends towards a work bench near the back of the lab.

“So, Barnes, based on the photo you sent I was able to go ahead and make the replacement phalanges.” Holtz tosses the mechanical hand she was carrying on the table and gestures for Bucky to sit on the stool next to it. “Normally, it would take over 24 hours to print the parts but with the Ultimaker, specially modified by yours truly, I could do it in 16.” Holtz smiles, obviously expecting the boys to be impressed. Steve gives her a slow clap that seems to satisfy and she heads into a sealed back room to grab the parts.

Steve moves closer to stand beside Bucky who is sat at the work table starting to roll up his left sleeve to expose his prosthetic arm. Funded by Stark Industries and custom built by Holtz, it’s extremely impressive really, and Steve loves to sketch it whenever he can. Well, that and the rest of the body it's attached to. “So what happened this time?”

Bucky grabs his phone and starts flipping through the photos. “It happened in the Tent. Bread week, and before you say I told you so, I was being very careful with the dough hook but you know how those little comments the Male Judge makes drives me nuts and I had to constantly check the elasticity of my ciabatta dough. Ah, here. Don’t laugh at my hair, Erin can’t take a photo on ‘three’ if her life depended on it.” He shows Steve the screen. It's a picture of Bucky trying to give the camera the middle finger with his left hand, except instead of straight up it’s pointing towards the GBBO host standing on his right. And completely mangled. His hair is windswept and shampoo commercial worthy as usual.

He reaches out and takes Bucky’s left hand gently in his own to inspect it. “I thought this was supposed to withstand being run over by a truck or something.”

Bucky chuckles, “Oh Stevie, that’s the other arm. You know, the one made from something ‘so far above your clearance level you’ll only ever find out just before the arm kills you’.” He sticks his lower lip out and gives his saddest puppy dog look, “Holtz only ever lets me use it for Stark Industry promotional videos. And helping her hold stuff while she shoots them with lasers. I mean, would it be so bad if I could use it to take stuff out of the oven?”

“Awww poor sweet thing, those big bad scientists won’t let you use their murder arm for a baking show.” Steve curls Bucky’s broken hand in his own and gives it a little kiss, holding it to his chest. Bucky is smiling up at him, eyes bright and shining and Steve's heart fills to overflowing. He wants to reach out, move the stray hair that has fallen out of the bun tied loosely at the back of his head, run his hand down the side of his face with such adoration that....

"Fuuuuuuck, I hope you like pink Barnes because I may have made a slight error in the colour mix for the replacement finger. You can blame Rogers, he made me print out an army of pink plastic knives last night."

Steve whips his head toward Holtz, startled, giving himself whiplash. He rubs the back of his neck and absolutely does not preen inside when he absolutely does not notice that Bucky hasn't looked away from him yet.

“They were fuchsia putty knives for my sculpting class.” He shrugs, feeling somewhat guilty. "The kids picked the colour, sorry. There's no budget left in the department for new supplies.”

Bucky rests his right hand on his shoulder and squeezes, “No worries, Stevie, I’ll get you back for this. When you least expect it.” He spreads out his left hand on the table and Holtz pulls it under her light-up magnifying glass.

Steve sputters and points at Holtzmann, “What? But…”

Holtz lowers her goggles and lights up her micro-torch, “The person holding the flame thrower can’t be blamed for mishaps, Rogers. That’s how accidents happen.”

She gets to work removing the mangled finger pieces from the prosthetic. Bucky pointedly looks away and swallows. This process always makes him queasy, but Steve knows what to do. He grabs his shoulder bag and digs out his sketch pad, “Hey Buck, could you look at this assignment sketch I’m thinking of giving the kids in my anime class? I’m not sure if I’ve got the look of the kaiju quite right.” If there was one thing that never failed to distract Bucky it was sci-fi, especially sci-fi monsters.

A few minutes into the procedure and the robot holding the cookie tin rolls towards Bucky. “Hey, how’re ya doin pal?” Steve grabs one of the brandy snaps and marvels at how Bucky has befriended all of Holtz’s robots. He seems happy to give the robot a little pat which elicits a flurry of friendly beeps in response, so Steve is willing to push aside his fear of an A.I. uprising. He frets over Bucky not having a snack himself but doesn’t push it.

Holtz never stops working but barks out, “Rogers, refuel.” and gestures for Steve to pop one of the blue-ish macarons in her mouth. It only takes her about half an hour to attach the finger, but another twenty minutes for them to take the perfect "F.U." pic to show off the contrast between his new, almost ethereally glowing bright pink middle finger and the dark grey of the rest of his arm.

“Mary is going to love it. Paul will just give you the ‘look’. Mentally prepare yourself, Barnes, you don’t want to get distracted during the showstopper this Sunday.” Erin walks into the lab with an overly bright smile aimed at her baking nemesis.

Bucky narrows his eyes, “Oh don’t you worry about me and the Male Judge. You just better keep an eye on your caffeine intake, you know how those shaky hands cost you the technical challenge last weekend. Coming in last doesn’t feel so great, not that I’d know."

Erin’s smile goes tight and Bucky’s mouth stretches into a grim line. Their eyes go steely and if daggers could fly out of eyeballs …. Steve and Holtz exchange an eye roll and silently agree that they need to break this party up. Steve grabs Bucky by the elbow, “Ok, let’s go Barnes, the ladies have a date.” Holtz glares at him and he qualifies, “A date with an astro-psychologist or whatever. You and Erin can chat all you want about the Bake Off during your practice bake tomorrow.” He snatches Bucky's gingerbread house plans off of the drafting table on the way out.

Erin waggles her fingers in a goodbye wave and is back to her bright innocent shark-toothed smile. Bucky just sort of growls, “Oh seven hundred sharp, Gilbert, and it’s your turn to make the coffee.” He turns away and grumps out of the lab calling out a, “Thanks for the finger, Holtz.” before turning down the hallway dragging Steve still clinging to his arm beside him.

Steve manages to get out a “Have a nice night ladies.” and gets a salute from Holtz and a promise that she’ll have her sonic egg scrambler ready in time for breakfast the next day _\- This is the eleventh version -_ Steve thinks to himself. Ominous.

________________

By the time they get to the end of the hall, Bucky is back to chatting about his gingerbread show stopper plans and Steve leads him across campus towards the Arts building. He had forgotten his jacket in his office and unfortunately he’d left his house keys in the pocket. As much as he loved walking on Bucky’s arm he loved avoiding his students more. “You’re on point Barnes.”

Bucky gives a chuckle and starts to walk ahead into the Arts building, checking around corners, holding his hand up and getting Steve to wait behind him when someone walks by, giving the ‘all clear’ when they can move on. There is a dicey moment when they round the corner near Steve’s office. A group of girls are waiting for him, undoubtedly to whine for extra marks though Bucky likes to tease that his students are hot for teacher. After a minute they lose interest and move away down the opposite end of the hall. Steve lets out the breath he hadn’t known he was holding. Bucky laughs, “How can you neglect your fans like that, Stevie.”

Steve unlocks his office, pulls Bucky in and locks the door behind them, “They aren’t fans, Bucky, just really needy students who don’t respect posted office hours.” He grabs his jacket while Bucky walks around admiring Steve’s work. The space is stuffed with canvases stacked against walls and furniture, the walls covered in pinned up sketches, many of Bucky himself in various poses. “Besides, you’re the one who had better get used to having fans. Just wait until the public gets a look at you when the Bake Off starts airing tomorrow night."

Bucky sets down a canvas, "Fuck you, Rogers."

Steve gives what he hopes is a sexy, suggestive smirk, "Anytime, anywhere, Barnes."

Bucky's eyes immediately light up, "Oh my god, I love that movie."

Steve's face falls in confusion, "What?"

"Aliens! Vasquez and Hudson, when they wake up on the Sulaco. Vasquez is such a badass. I mean she takes workplace harassment, crunches it in a ball with one fist, puts it into the crook of her elbow and pulverizes it with her bicep while doing one armed chin-ups off the pipes of a god damned space ship!" Bucky demonstrates what he means with a balled up piece of paper which he crushes while flexing his own impressive arm muscles.

Steve swallows _-Do NOT drool -_ "That's, uh, a very specific visualization there Buck."

"Hey! You want to watch it tonight? I've got the director's cut. I’ll make pizza.” he singsongs.

Unlike Bucky, Steve has a ridiculously good memory, one might even call it photographic if it weren't for all the times he's failed to remember how bad he is at flirting with his best friend. Steve prefers the term "selective". Either way, he's seen Aliens with Bucky approximately _\- exactly, don't pretend you weren't counting -_ 36 times over their long friendship and he could mouth the closed captions along with the film in his sleep. Bucky, on the other hand, seems to find something new every time. He looks so hopeful now, staring down at Steve with big puppy dog eyes, how could Steve deny him?

"Fine, but not another thin crust OK? It's like eating an oversized cracker."

Bucky is beaming at him, "You know how I feel about noisy food during a movie. Don't you worry Stevie, this is going to be perfect! I can practice my pizza dough from the competition, I was this close to getting star baker for it, and I'll put whatever you want on it, even black and green olives at the same time."

"Hey! Olives have deep and complex flavours." Steve shoves at Bucky's chest as he defends his topping choices. Bucky starts going on about the competition and Steve zones out a bit, grabbing Bucky by his elbow and leading him out of his office. And if he keeps his hand tucked in the crook of Bucky's arm while they walk back to the firehouse then it's just because his friend is too busy talking to be able to walk on his own.

## Part 2: Fox’s Den

Recommended listening: The Boat Song by Amanda Palmer and Jason Webley, from Sketches for the Musical Jib  
________________

### Holtz’s lab...

"Tell me what you see. Take your time." Holtzmann looks at a card in front of her: three wavy horizontal lines.

The volunteer test subject has long dark hair and large iridescent blue eyes like spun galaxies. Her teeth drag her pouting lower lip into her mouth as she tries to concentrate. Oh, and she's a psych grad student _\- Admirable -_ Holtz convinces herself she means the academic endurance of the volunteer seated across from her and not her considerable dreaminess.

"A triangle. With a circle in it." The volunteer _\- Dixie? Trixie -_ looks very sure of herself. She has, for all she knows, gotten ten cards in a row right so far. The electrode attached to her finger taps against the table as she fidgets in anticipation.

_Oh gods she's so innocent look at those eyes! Do you want to be a monster Holtz? - _Holtz smiles at her and puts the card face down, "Amazing. Truly a statistical anomaly, you should be proud." The girl beams at her and gives the practiced look of humility of someone who has taken many a selfie. Holtz takes it all in on a breath and turns to the next test subject, Kevin, a tall, muscular blonde with fashionable dark rimmed glasses and a permanent happy-go-lucky smile that is just this side of cocky. Though he claims to have varied work experience, Holtz is unconvinced that he would even be able to answer a phone much less contribute to her research beyond, you know, human experimentation. In other words, he's perfect. His calm, open exterior is betrayed by the nervous tapping of the finger with the electrode. He has received ten shocks in a row, though more to test a theory of Holtz' rather than because he actually got all ten cards wrong. In fact, so far half have been correct, an actual statistical anomaly that has Holtz's intellect piqued. "Alright Kevin, don't think too hard, alright, just let it come to you." Holtz smiles at him benignly enough though her hand hovers over the buzzer. Pixie looks at him with unabashed pity. Kevin swallows hard and opens his mouth to say something. Both ladies lean forward in anticipation.__

__There is a sudden knock at the door and the room releases a jolt of tension with more than a few audible gasps. Steve pokes his head around the door, "Holtz, are you busy?"_ _

__Holtz readjusts the goggles pushed up on her head and puts on her Serious Scientist face, "I'm conducting interviews for a new personal assistant, Rogers, this is extremely important stuff. You and Barnes aren't around all day to hold things and bring me snacks." She turns to her test subjects slash interviewees and adds, "And learn and contribute to the knowledge of the universe."_ _

__Steve is unmoved. "Uh huh. Well, we have a little something to get ready for in case you've forgotten." Steve looks into the room, not above asking Holtz's test subjects to leave, certainly wouldn't have been the first time, when he sees Kevin and his eyes just about pop out of his skull. "Thor?" Steve breaks out in a huge grin and throws his arms open, "Thor!" Steve is lifted at least three feet off the floor by his giant friend, "When did you get glasses? And short hair? What happened to hair metal for life, eh." Steve pulls at the strands in confusion._ _

__Thor sets Steve back on his feet and rests his hands on his hips "Little Steven, it does my heart good to see you. How many years have past and wars fought since we last drank together, my friend."_ _

__Holtzmann, who'd been staring at the two with questioning _\- Confusion is for the norms -_ eyebrow raised "Kevin? I didn't know you spoke Shakespearean."_ _

__Kevin has the grace to look ashamed and adjusts his glasses, which, now that Holtz is paying attention, have an index of approximately zero _\- Bespectacled Drama major my ass, this calls for a complete overhaul of my selection process -_ She slams down the buzzer and shocks her would-be PA._ _

__"Ow! A figure eight!" Kevin rips the electrode off of his finger and sticks it in his mouth to soothe the sting. Steve looks at Holtz with the full force of his Eyebrows of Disappointment, but Holtz is staring down at the card in front of her blinking rapidly. Steve rolls his eyes, he can't keep that look up indefinitely. What a waste._ _

__Holtz stands suddenly and approaches Kevin with an alarmingly toothy smile, hand outstretched, eyes shining with barely contained glee. Kevin involuntarily backs up in alarm, but takes her hand when she says, "You're hired." Kevin blinks back in surprise but smiles and nods. He is about to thank her when she cuts him off, "Now escort this lovely young woman from the lab, I need to have a word with my colleague here, Little Steven." Trixie looks as though she can't decide whether to feel disappointment or relief as Kevin leads her away._ _

__Steve scowls in protest but returns Thor's clap on the shoulder as he leaves to bring the young test subject out of the room. He faces Holtz, arms crossed, "Little? Really? That's a bit rich don't you think..."_ _

__Holtz isn't listening but rather reaches past him to close the door. She grabs Steve by both shoulders, shaking him with her enthusiasm, "He got it right! He got a statistically significant number of cards right! Rogers, do you know what this means?" Steve looks at her with no small amount of skepticism but she doesn't wait for an answer, "My new assistant is psychic! He may even be telekinetic! but we'll have to run further tests."_ _

__"Christ." Steve rubbed hard at his eyes with both hands - Not again - "Let's say you're right, for arguments sake and don't tell me it's science, Holtzmann! You know that word doesn't work on me. Just...just don't tell Stark this time, Ok? Remember what happened last time? We haven't seen Wanda for months."_ _

__Holtz grimaces, "Fine, but I'm telling Erin."_ _

__"Well, obviously. What time is it? We've got to get to Fox's to set up for the premiere."_ _

__Holtz moves out into the main lab and starts collecting equipment in a box, "I gotta set up the projection unit in the cafe. Here carry this." She dumps a large tool box into Steve's hands which immediately hits the floor._ _

__"Jeezus Holtz, what's in here?" Steve gives a grunt, unsuccessfully straining his arms to pick up the case._ _

__"A mercury ion laser. You know, for the projector. Assistant Kevin! Assistant Kevin! Kevin!" Holtz continues calling out for her assistant until he appears loping through the doorway like an overlarge golden retriever. He immediately sees that Steve needs help and rushes over to him to pick up the case which Steve is eyeing like it personally affronted him._ _

__"Steven, do you recall the days when our consumption of wine was such that you would exclaim to the world that there was naught that might obstruct the way of the Mighty Rogers? Then you would try to lift me off the floor as an ant would a grain of food."_ _

__Steve unconsciously rubs a hand up and down his moderately crooked, my scoliosis is barely even a thing spine and actually smiles at the memory of his art school days. When Bucky was on leave he would bring some of his section buddies to model for the sculpture classes Steve assisted. For this reason, perhaps unsurprisingly, Steve was a very popular TA. His mind pictured past Thor as though it were yesterday: a gargantuan muscled god with an artful mess of flowing golden hair, a Def Leppard t-shirt with the sleeves ripped off, faded jeans with frayed worn spots on his knees and thighs and not because the factory made them that way but because he had _worn them out doing who knows what, let your imagination fill in the blanks_. And his students certainly did, fill in the blanks that is. It had helped that Thor was the only one who was never shy to look at the student's progress, always had something encouraging to say even if they made him look like Gumby. Thor and the rest of the section always made him feel as though he were part of their team. Sure they teased him about his size but they always took Steve's snark as good as they gave. They would sit on the roof of Steve and Bucky's apartment building and drink until the sun came up _\- Smiles go on the inside, Mighty Rogers -_ He tilts his chin up and looks down his nose at Thor, "An ant? Really? What is with you two? I can see this will be a match made in my own personal Hell."_ _

__Thor's laugh booms around the room and Steve can physically see Holtz's mind cataloging yet another nickname for him. Thor claps him on the back, the laser cradled under a single arm, "I see your propensity for exaggeration has not deserted you, my friend. Come now, let us deliver this cargo. And you must bring me to see Barnes, for as the Sun rises every morning in the East, James Barnes will be found standing at your right."_ _

__"That's my good ear." Steve says automatically but he blushes anyways. Holtz hands him a smaller tool belt which he cradles in his arms as effortlessly as he can appear to be._ _

__Holtz leads the way out of the lab, "I hope you like baking shows, Kevin. If you're going to survive around here, you're going to be a test subject for more than just a few physics experiments."_ _

__Thor looks to Steve who just nods reassuringly. He hefts the laser over one shoulder and grabs the tools out of Steve's hands with only mild protest, "Yes, Boss."_ _

__________________  
_ _

#### Fox's Den Café & Bar

TONIGHT  
Charity Screening of the Series 8  
GBBO Premiere  
Starring Two Local Fools  
All proceeds go to  
South Humber Ferret Rescue

When they walk inside Fox’s they are greeted by a somber melody. At the back of the room, beyond the tables and couches set up for patrons, stands an upright piano. Years ago, Steve had painted it with the scene of a lavender field. It still managed to add colour to the room, despite many a long night of singing bodies pressed up against its painted sides and drinks accidentally sloshed over it. Bucky is sat at the the keys, shoulders hunched as he plays a low-key song that warns of brooding ahead. Steve stops short as Holtzmann barrels on ahead inside, anxious to get her equipment set up in time. Ignoring her bossing, he considers his best friend: neck bowed and long hair loose obscuring his face, sleeves pulled well past his wrists and prosthetic curled protectively on his lap. Steve sets down his bag next to the piano and trails his hand down a slightly faded stem of lavender, remembering when he and Bucky had first arrived in England. They had rented a car to drive from London to South Humber, driving through fields of brightly coloured flowers as they made wrong turns and took smaller side roads, stretching a day's drive into several. Neither one had seen anything quite like it. He sits on the bench on Bucky’s left, nudging his friend with his shoulder and giving him a quiet, “Hey.”

Bucky gives the slightest jerk that would be unnoticeable to most but to Steve means that, despite his gentle approach, he still startled his friend. He recovers quickly and relaxes into Steve’s side, laying his head on his best friend's shoulder, face still hidden behind a curtain of hair, right hand trailing down the keys of the piano. Steve just rests his head on top of Bucky’s, he won’t force him out of hiding until he is ready.

Fortunately they are left alone for a few precious moments. Steve lifts a hand to the keys and starts playing chopsticks one sided. Bucky joins in after a minute and it doesn’t take long until they start competing for speed, laughing and shoving each other to get the advantage. When Steve concedes defeat Bucky raises both arms in triumph. He rolls his sleeves up and ties his hair back in a loose bun, preparing to play another song. Steve is trying and failing miserably not to stare as Bucky sweeps his hair up, exposing his neck and shoulder as the collar of his shirt slips to the side, when Thor ambles over with a booming greeting of, “Barnes! We will feast tonight in celebration of your victory!”

This time when Bucky startles it is with a double take as he takes in his old friend and his new appearance. They don’t have long to catch up before Holtzmann bellows for her assistant.

“Can I help with anything?” Erin walks over to stand between the boys at the piano and the mess of equipment and tools strewn across the floor where Holtzmann is crouching near a breaker box hidden behind a wood panel. She looks exhausted, briefcase hanging from one limp arm and her rumpled coat in the other. Holtzmann notices that the top few buttons of her blouse have been hastily undone. The bowtie she likes to wear in Professor Gilbert mode, the repeating pattern of little cats and closed boxes set on a background of outer space, dangles open around her neck.

Holtz takes in her entirety, trying hard not to stare at her exposed clavicle as she drops her stuff unceremoniously on the floor next to Steve's bag and sits on the end of piano bench while Bucky shuffles over _\- Schrodingers cat. She is simultaneously tired but happy and tired but going to reduce everyone in the room to ectoplasmic goo. The only way to know which is to open the box -_ Holtz pushes her safety goggles up on her forehead and reaches over to tap her friend on the knee with a screw driver, “How did the grant proposal go?”

Erin lets out a long sigh and slumps forward, laying a hand over the screw driver and taking it from Holtz’s grasp. She is immediately reminded of the time Erin had come into Holtz’s lab back at MIT approximately a million years ago looking as though she’d just finished running a marathon. Holtz had dreaded it but had had to tell her about Stark's proposal to move her work to England. Erin had just looked at her blankly, a closed box. That is until she started to smile and stated a simple “Perfect timing. I just quit.” There was no question about it, she was going with Holtz. Holtzmann hangs onto that memory now, willing her closest friend to be happy, despite the unreadable expression. She is rewarded with a tired smile. “Yeah. It went OK. I got the money. Despite Abby and Tony arguing at each other across the room from two different monitors over Skype. As soon as Patty started singing Tony’s favourite Black Sabbath song, iron whatever, he got distracted and agreed to everything. It would’ve been more hilarious if the Dean hadn’t kept asking over and over again how ectothereal containment would benefit the university financially. But yeah, in the end we got it.”

Steve and Bucky congratulate her with a backward group hug without actually moving their asses from the bench while Holtzmann beams up at her from her position on the floor. When the boys jostling wrestles Erin's attention away, Holtz turns back to the breaker box _\- Now where was I? Eeenie meenie miney moe Catch a gremlin by its toe If you feed it better know That after midnight it will grow -_ She yanks the thick cable out of the box with a few sparks. All the lights in the cafe go out at once and a few startled screams can be heard. Oops. 

A voice suddenly booms from behind the bar. “Holtzmann!”

“I’ll put it right back the way I found it. You’ll never even know that you went an evening without a viable connection to the main power grid.” Holtz holds up the sparking cables in one hand and a glowing blue orb encased by a Stark Industries radiological hazard container in the other. She beams her most reassuring smile towards the proprietor, Fox, adding in a mumble, “And jumped like a few tens of milli-Sieverts in background radiation but still totally within acceptable limits."

Fox fixes her with a steely glare over the rim of her glasses, rum bottle in hand, arm outstretched with finger pointing in warning, “Don’t mess with me, lady. I’ve been drinking with skeletons.”

Holtzmann swallows hard as Fox turns back to organizing the bar for the evening. Erin stage whispers, “What does that even mean?”

Holtz turns to her and hands her the socket wrench _\- It means I had better not accidentally fry us all, or worse, irreparably damage Stark’s power source -_ “It means that you are my assistant for the evening.” She gives Erin what she hopes is an enticing smile, “C’mon partner, help me hook up this questionable blue glowy alien artifact thing up to the main circuit breaker so we can boost the signal and get HD cable TV. For Free.”

Erin just shakes her head fondly and Holtz quickly pulls down her goggles lest she start staring again. They quickly fall into sympatico work mode, with Kevin helping to fetch and grab the mysterious equipment, holding it in place while Holtz coos to it softly, willing it to life. 

“Whoa that screen is sick brah, like way better than even the one at Tito’s bar ’n grill in Pasadena and his was a full 90 inches of UHD goodness if you can believe that. My cousin Ernesto built it himself, dude has mad skills with electronics man, shit just sings to him. But this! This, Holtzy, is a whole other enchilada, know what I’m sayin?” Luis, the bartender, had wandered away from his evening prep toward the group and now stands before them holding a bottle of Coralejo with several shot glasses stacked precariously on the neck. “Yo yo yo Barnes, have you seen your roma's in the back garden bro? Gonna make some salsa to-nite! Shits gonna blow your mind and I ain’t talking about the sweet habaneros I got roasting in the oven. Even I have a few secrets left up my sleeve homes. Stevie, did your homeboy show you what he's been growing in the community garden yet? I don't want to ruin no surprises, no need for the murder glare Buckybot, chill! But a little birdie told me you like a little chile en nogada all auténtico-like. Alright alright alright no more chitchat, we got a premiere to watch! Let's get this party started right!"

Luis sets out the glasses on the piano top and pours a round of tequila shots. It’s not the sipping stuff but good enough not to feel like the fire in your stomach is being doused with gasoline. They all grab a glass, including Luis who has a rep for never letting a customer drink alone. Or a group of customers. He raises his shot glass in a toast, “For two of the greatest people I have ever known. Erin, your take on vanilla conchas with a strawberry crust rivals my abuela's best pan dulce. Bucky, you’re just a menace in the kitchen. To the Bake Off!”

They repeat the toast and down their drinks, slamming the glasses on the top of the piano, which earns them a pointed throat clearing from Fox. Erin gently slaps a hand down on the piano, “I want to sing! Barnes. Play it.”

A smirk twists the corner of Bucky’s mouth, “Yes ma'am.” He starts to play The Boat Song and immediately Holtzmann begins to bounce on the balls of her feet. Erin mouths a “Yessss.” as Steve drums his hands on Bucky’s back. Soon the song changes from singing to full out screaming.

If the goal had been to stir the room up into a frenzy then mission accomplished. Friends and neighbours start pouring in, grabbing seats and ordering pints. Steve quickly grabs a table near the piano with a good view of the screen and shoos a group of his students, a.k.a. The Adoring Fans as Bucky refers to them, away from the chairs. Bucky and Erin disappear into the kitchen and come back arms laden with trays of their weekly practice bakes. The students in the crowd descend upon baked samosas and mini quiches as though it was the first real food they'd seen outside of instant ramen and Heinz baked beans in months.

________________

When the chaos begins to settle down Holtz stands in front of the massive screen she has built, holding a remote control before her _\- The moment of truth -_ "Luis! The lights!" When the lights go out this time everyone is expecting it and a hush falls over the crowd. Holtz points the remote and pushes the button with the 'Good job!' sticker on it. The screen flickers and comes to life, a commercial for the Tesco five towns over gracing the screen. Holtz's eyes shine with satisfaction. "It lives!" She feels a strong pull on her sleeve as Erin pulls her down to sit beside her, Bucky and Steve on the other side.

The crowd cheers as Mel and Sue, the hosts of the Great British Bake Off, appear on the screen with their trademark innuendo and banter. The camera pulls out to see the full spectrum of this seasons bakers. Bucky stands on the right flank of the group. Posture straight, head in a neutral position and hands resting behind his back, he is obviously "at ease". Erin stands next to him with a tight smile stretching her features and a hand shading her eyes from the bright summer sun.

The show begins and the crowd in the cafe laugh along with the hosts, cheer when they see Mary Berry and take a drink whenever Paul opens his mouth in some sort of collective drinking game. When Bucky appears on the screen the crowd is hastily shushed by Luis. Host Mel’s voice is played over video from Bucky’s life back at home:

“Though born and raised in Brooklyn, New York, James has been living in North Lincolnshire for the past five years. An avid community gardener he shares his daily bakes with friends and neighbours alike.”

Bucky stands in the communal gardens in the lot just off campus, behind Fox’s Den. As he picks tomatoes off the vine and loads them into a basket, Luis stands beside him, mouth running a mile a minute as he tells his story, gesturing wildly with a croissant in one hand and a half-eaten churro in the other. Out of focus behind them are two shorter blondes fighting over what looks like a box of jelly doughnuts, evident by the blurry red mess that explodes before the camera cuts.

"Former U.S. Special Forces sniper, James lost his left arm during active duty and now tests experimental prostheses for world renowned Stark Industries."

The camera shows Bucky and Steve standing in Holtzmann's lab. Bucky stands tall, his arms crossed over his chest, shaking his head in answer to a question asked off screen. Steve says something, smiling and grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. Bucky's cheeks go pink and he covers his face with his flesh hand while Steve proudly holds out a photo to the camera. The camera zooms into the picture and when it finally focuses, Bucky, in full combat gear, can be seen resting against the side of a jeep with a bag of strawberry twizzlers in his hand, the label written in a foreign language. He holds out the candy as if to show it to the camera. He is smiling, bright and open, a red twizzler dangling from his mouth.

Someone in the cafe wolf whistles and a giggle runs through the crowd. Steve slings an arm around Bucky as he slides further down in his chair in embarrassment, whispering in his ear how proud he is of him. Bucky rests his head on Steve's shoulder for a moment and sits up a bit straighter.

The camera cuts back to Bucky still in the lab. He is opening and closing his prosthetic fist for the camera as though flexing it, "They said I needed a hobby, something to get my left arm moving like a real one." 

Suddenly Holtzmann pops into frame from behind the workbench Bucky is leaning on. She has her overalls on and goggles pulled over her eyes. She grips what looks like a screwdriver with a short flame coming out of it. She looks at the interviewer standing beside the camera, "What I said was that he needed to build the neural pathways to control Benny from scratch and the only way to do that is continuous dexterous activity." She looks at the camera while Bucky looks at the floor, "Benny is what I called the arm, by the way. And she IS a real arm thank you very much. I don't know what Barnes calls her." 

She disappears from view and the camera zooms in on Bucky's face. He looks at the camera, mouth drawn in a tight line and a look that says Just accept this.

"Though daring in his flavour choices, the Sarge, as he's known amongst his fellow contestants, is a meticulous baker and takes no prisoners in either his home kitchen or the Tent."

The camera shows Bucky and Paul Hollywood facing eachother across Bucky's bench with identical poses, arms crossed over their chests, equally menacing glares directed at eachother in some sort of Baking Stand Off. As Paul starts to lift an eyebrow in an obviously daring manner Bucky raises his own eyebrow parroting his nemesis, otherwise not moving a muscle neither to breathe nor blink. Out-stonewalled Paul is the first to break form. Obviously annoyed he turns away thrusting his arm out at the last second to snatch a piece of chocolate from Bucky's bench. Bucky lunges across the counter to stop the chocolate thief but Paul swings his hip away and darts off screen. Bucky looks at the camera and growls. The camera shakily moves away and they cut to the next scene.

Still in the Tent and the judges along with host Mel, stand in front of Bucky's bench. A round of greetings passes between them. Mary Berry looks at the array of ingredients in front of her, "This all looks quite exotic. Tell us what you'll be making for your Signature Bake this morning, James." 

Bucky smiles down at her, "Well, Mary, I'm going to be making a ginger cardamom cake with an orange glaze." 

Paul pipes in, "And for decoration?" 

Bucky gestures to a package in front of him, "I have some soan papdi that I made myself." He lets them try it and they all hum in appreciation. Mel grabs an extra cube. Bucky pulls over a plate, "My friend Steve is an incredible artist and he made me this plate. The theme is Diwali, the Festival of Lights. It's of course a different time of year but, I mean, look at this. I had to use it." He holds up the plate which is an impressive bit of clay work with bright, intricate designs around the edge and a bold five-pointed star in the centre. Everyone looks impressed and they thank him for his time. Bucky's expression turns menacing lightening fast when Paul reaches for a piece of candied ginger. He smacks the judge's hand with a wooden spoon and glares as Paul just looks up completely unrepentant. 

Mel comments, "Watch it Paul, the Sarge never misses." 

Paul just looks at Bucky challenging, "Well, we'll see if you get your flavours on target or not." 

Mary and Mel groan and pull Paul away to talk to the next contestant. Bucky turns around to look at Erin. As the camera focuses on her she gives a massive eye roll. Bucky turns back to his bench chuckling to himself. He suddenly looks up and glares sharply at the person holding the camera and the picture shakes as the camera hastily turns away and cuts.

The show moves on to another contestant. Steve turns to Bucky, he can't keep his smile from hurting his cheeks it's so wide, "You used my plate."  
Bucky looks over at him slightly perplexed and knocks their shoulders together, "Of course I did, punk."  
Steve can't stop smiling and pushes back, "Jerk."  
Holtzmann's voice shushes the crowd, "Heads up people, she's on!"

The voice of host Sue punches through the sporadic chatter in the bar:

"Another native New Yorker, Doctor Erin Gilbert is a professor of physics at South Humber University. Her popularity in the professor's lounge is uncontested as she brings daily bakes to share with her colleagues.”

The camera shows Erin setting down a tray of elaborately decorated cupcakes on a table where several professorial types lounging with cups of tea reach out and grab a cake, eyes sparkling in gluttonous appreciation. The camera moves in closer to show the designs piped on the cakes. The majority are flowers with the petals made from a rainbow of coloured buttercream. Erin picks up two vastly different cakes, each one with the shape of a chinchilla outlined in brown icing. She turns around where Steve and Holtz are standing behind her bouncing on the balls of their feet in anticipation.

"Besides a full semester of dealing with stressed out uni students, Erin collaborates with Stark Industries in their experimental division.”

Erin is seen standing at a massive white board next to Holtzmann. The entire surface is covered in complex equations and both women seem to be debating over the same equation, alternately erasing each other's work and replacing it with different sets of Greek letters. The camera pulls out to show that they are in Holtz’s lab. Bucky is standing at the edge of the frame handling an elaborate contraption made of twisted metal parts fit together in an intricate design. Suddenly one piece breaks off in his hand and he looks up in alarm. He slowly leans out of frame until he disappears from view. Erin has meanwhile won the argument by taking the dry erase marker and making a red mark on Holtz’ cheek. Holtz’s mouth drops open in shock and Erin just smiles, points to her equation and nods knowingly at the camera before it cuts away. 

"If any of this seems familiar, that's because it is! The Doc, as she's known in the tent, and the Sarge are flatmates in what Erin describes as a home for wayward Americans. Let's just say that the competition in the kitchen doesn't stop when they leave the Bake Off Tent."

The camera shows an older gentleman with a black leather coat and matching eye patch sitting on a bench reading the paper. He gives a pointedly unimpressed look at the camera as it pulls back to reveal an old red brick fire house with 'Fury's End' stencilled over the massive entrance. Erin and Bucky sit side by side on the middle step of the front stoop, Holtz and Steve on either side. Behind them sits a woman with flaming red hair and an inscrutable expression. Leaning into her side is a dishevelled man with haphazard spiky blond hair and a sleepy expression. His arm is slung around a shaggy mutt who is wagging its tail furiously and drooling over Bucky's shoulder. Beside the dog is Luis beaming at the camera as though it were a class photo. A man with dark shades and a ’too cool for school’ expression leans on the railing next to Steve. His arms are crossed over his chest, emphasizing an elaborate falcon tattoo on his left bicep. Steve stealthily reaches out and pokes him in the ribs and the man jumps away flashing a blindingly bright smile. 

The show cuts to Erin and Bucky working side by side at a counter in a sunny kitchen, their backs to the camera. Bucky is holding a bowl and whipping a meringue with his prosthetic arm while Erin throws her weight into kneading the dough in front of her. They seem to be working in companionable silence until Bucky whips his meringue a bit too hard sending a fluffy cloud of egg white to land on Erin’s cheek. Without missing a beat Erin’s arm shoots out pushing Bucky in his side causing him to stumble out of frame. Erin flicks the meringue from her cheek into Bucky’s general direction and calmly resumes kneading her dough.

"Though meticulous in her technique, the Doc, has been known to use some more... unusual apparatus.”

They are back in the tent and host Sue is holding up a contraption in each hand looking between the two, bafflement clearly on written on her face. “I think you’ll have to explain these, Doc, or I will be forced to come to my own conclusions.” 

Sue looks over the rim of her glasses as Erin smirks, “They are certainly unique, as is the brilliant engineer who made them for me. This one,” Erin points to a complicated series of springs and prongs, “is specially designed to reduce the stress on my wrist when whisking. It actually has several settings optimized depending on the task. Actually, it's more effective than using the mixer. Here look.” 

She takes the whisk that doesn’t look anything like a whisk out of Sue’s hands and grabs the cup of coffee sitting on the side of her bench. She pours a good amount of milk in and sticks in one end of the whisk. It makes an ethereal whine as she turns it on and Sue takes a little step back. In a few seconds Erin pulls out the whisk and hands the cup to Sue, “Cappuccino?” 

Sue’s eyes light up in surprise as she takes the cup and a sip, “Mmmm wow, that is very useful indeed. So this one can make instant foamy drinks and I assume a pavlova in less than a minute. What’s this one for? Pleasure?” Sue holds up a smooth metallic cylinder with spiralled indents along its shaft and a smooth domed top. At the other end are a series of spheres that rotate as Sue jiggles them. 

She raises an eyebrow at Erin who just gives a bright smile and grabs the contraption, “Oh this one’s my favourite, so versatile. Look, if I give it a twist the long part thickens.” 

Sue chokes on a sip from the instant latte and sputters. She takes in a wheezy breath as Erin thumps her on her back, “Yes, but what is it for?” 

Erin runs her hand along the smooth surface, “Oh, it’s for shaping chocolate, dough, spun sugar, anything you want! The material is a special alloy developed by my best friend Holtz, when I flick this switch on the base whatever was stuck on it will unstick instantly. I told you she was brilliant.” 

Sue takes back the device and tries to squeeze the spheres around the base, “And the balls on the other end, are those stress relievers? They’re not very squishy.” 

Erin takes back the device again, “No they are quite hard, but they are for relieving stress. Here,” she turns an alarmed Sue around by a shoulder and rolls the ball-end of the device up and down the base of her spine. Sue lets out a groan of pleasure and immediately slaps a hand over her mouth. Erin just laughs, “I can hold a lot of tension in my back and shoulders, which doesn’t exactly help when you’re standing around trying to squeeze a creamy filling into a delicate cannoli shell. This is to help with that.” 

The camera zooms in on Sue as Erin gets back behind her bench, the judges can be seen approaching in the background. The host stage whispers to the camera, “I just got a back massage from a kitchen dildo and it was the most orgasmic thing to happen to me in this Tent so far. And that includes Chetna’s chocolate mango eclairs from series 5."

The camera pulls out to show Erin nodding solemnly as judge Paul gestures at a bowl of flour, obviously giving an unpleasant lecture. Mary tries to smile reassuringly at Erin. Sue is very helpfully standing behind her running the massage end of the kitchen dildo up and down her spine.

A laugh bursts out from the crowd at Fox’s which gives way to idle chatter as the camera moves on to another contestant. Holtz squints her eyes at the screen, not really watching _\- Kitchen Dildo…why didn’t I think of that? The Kitchen Shaft, Stark is totally going to market this … -_ Suddenly she is accosted by two arms being flung around her neck.

“Thanks Holtz, I couldn’t have even walked into that tent without you.” Erin whispers into her hair. Her breath may be a tad high on the alcoholic fumes but she isn’t leaning over heavily or sounding slurred so Holtz will take it as a win and hugs her back pretty hard.

“All I did was make a few custom gadgets powered by substances that would be illegal if the authorities even knew they existed. You’re the one who uses them to create actual magic. That vanilla white chocolate tulip cake you are making on the big screen right now defies the laws of physics. I wish I could eat you right now.” Holtz squeezes her back before she realizes what she just said, “It. Eat it. The cake.”

Erin is shaking from giggles in her arms and pulls back much too soon for Holtz’s liking, “You did eat it. It was the practice bake you and Steve referred to as the Stay Puft Marshmallow Man cake. I have had much more practice tempering chocolate since then.”

Holtz thinks back _\- Oh yeah that was delicious, bulbous and misshapen, but soooo goooood -_ Her reminiscing is interrupted by Bucky yelling at the screen.

“Do you see that bull shit! That is NOT a split, it is a crackle which is what it’s SUPPOSED to look like.” Bucky is glaring furiously at Paul who is critiquing Bucky’s signature bake. Bucky's hand, wrapped around a near-empty pint glass is perilously close to crushing the glass. Steve gently takes it out of his hand and puts it aside as Luis comes by with a bottle instead.

________________

The show rolls on with increasing audience participation, though none more so than Erin and Bucky themselves. The pound cake technical challenge provokes what will forever be known as The Doc and Sarge Swear Bad Quartet, if a quartet was actually a hundred or so half-drunken patrons singing disparaging comparisons between each pound cakes being judged and their respective bakers. By the time the showstopper comes to a finish and a young baker from Chelsea has won the first Star Baker of the series no one in the cafe is paying attention to the screen. Fuelled by an hour of nervous drinking, Bucky and Erin start an argument about baking bread that dissolves into a fiery debate about the best technique for cooking paranthas over an open fire. A loose circle of patrons has formed around the pair, once in awhile throwing in a comment or two, most along the lines of “Whole grain is rubbish! I’m looking’ at you Coulson!”, “Fuck you, Rumlow! Everyone knows a mix of whole wheat and all-purpose is the fuckin’ bomb!”

Eventually, Luis is told by his boss to handle the situation before the crowd gets too out of control and start to break stuff. He pushes his way through the crowd, placating a tipsy Holtzmann who lays a heavy hand on his shoulder, looks at him through watery eyes over the rim of her goggles and tells him what a “worthy human being” he is, and does he have any more of that tequila in the blue bottle. He jostles a sleeping Steve to wake him up before his drool pool reaches the edge of the table he was “just resting his eyes” on. When he reaches Erin and Bucky he puts a strong hand on each of their shoulders and squeezes none too gently to get their attention.

Bucky looks at him, placating, “I know what you’re going to say, Luis, but she,” he pokes Erin on her shoulder but misses and stumbles forward. Recovering quickly he finishes his defence, “SHE started it."

Before Erin can retort Luis holds up his hands effectively silencing everyone. He waits for everyone’s attention, “You know what this means brah.” Luis looks from Bucky to Erin. “We had better take this out to the street.”

A yell rises up from the crowd, “Street Bake Off!"

###  Out on the street...

Luis stands behind the metal trash can that he'd rolled out into the street. With help from the neighbours woodpiles, a blazing fire burns within. It is well past sundown and the darkness has pressed in on the little side street, blanketing the crowd from Fox's. Erin and Bucky stand on either side of Luis facing eachother over the fire with intense concentration. Bucky takes a swig from his beer and sways a little bit. He immediately straightens in an exaggerated effort to show that he is not indeed three sheets to the wind. Erin cracks a triumphant smirk, the effect of which is immediately ruined by a hiccup. She plasters a hand over mouth, braces her knees to keep from swaying herself and gestures to Luis that she's ready.

Luis's face is illuminated from below by the fire, eyes glassy from the tequila shots he's been drinking with customers. He looks between Erin and Bucky who nod back in affirmation. He declares to the crowd, "The first rule of Street Bake Off is ...!" He pauses for dramatic effect and mentally crosses off item number sixty five from his fantasy bucket list.

Before he can continue Clint, a regular at Fox's, pipes up from the back of the crowd where he's bent over the neighbour's lawn leaning on a tree, "Safety first?”

Luis stomps his foot in annoyance, "No, Clint, Street Bake Off isn't safe. That would be like totally against the point of Street Bake Off. But for reals though Stevie you got the fire extinguisher? Was it behind the bar where I told you bro? It's weird right? But you ain't seen nothin 'till you seen a shot of tequila accidentally knocked into one of those votive candles I keep going you know for like a romantic effect." Steve holds up the small extinguisher and the crowd cheers.

"Alright alright alright let's get this show on the road. The first rule of Street Bake Off is..."

The crowd shouts back, "THERE ARE NO RULES!"

It quickly devolves from there.

________________

Steve looks down at his hands where a crumbly yet chewy bread sits. He doesn’t remember eating it but he does remember that damn, it tasted sooooooo gooooooood. He smells wood smoke and the sharp tang of _\- Ugh! someone spilled beer on my jeans! -_ He looks over and Holtzmann is talking to him, her goggles are pulled over her eyes and her hair's a mess. He can’t quite make out what she’s saying as she has dissolved into a fit of giggles, crashing into Erin’s lap. Erin looks at him with dire seriousness, holding up two pieces of identical bread, “Rogers, focus! This is the most important decision you’re going to make tonight. Which one is better?” Steve just smiles as he looks down at his bread and takes another bite _\- Mmmmmmm that’s like asking me to choose between Heaven and a Hell where there’s nothing but X-Files reruns on TV -_ “I love them both, Equally!” For some reason that frustrates Erin and she pushes him over until he flops back on the grass. He turns his head to the side and sees Bucky lying down beside him, staring at the stars humming in his deep voice. He looks over at Steve, “How close do you think we have to get to a star’s surface before my strawberry soufflé will rise?” Steve’s eyes feel heavy _\- I love you -_ is the last thing he thinks before he sinks into oblivion.

________________

_Ugh, why is everything so bright?! -_ Holtzmann blinks and shakes her head, “Assistant Kevin! Assistant Kevin! I told you to always put the shield up before I turn on the laser. Are you trying to burn our corneas?” She hears a deep laugh and a large hand yanks her goggles down from her forehead and over her eyes. “Shields up, boss! Though it has always been imparted to me since I was a small child that it is always unwise to stare into the Sun.” Holzmann blinks again. The Sun is just peeking over the Horizon. She feels very heavy as she takes a step forward and discovers the extra weight is Erin with an arm slung around her neck and head resting on her shoulder. The early morning sunlight makes the hair hanging around her face a warm glow _\- Beautiful -_ Holtzmann thinks and her heart swells. Kevin is on Erin’s other side and together they are carrying Erin down the street. “Indeed, it is a beautiful morning after surviving a night of heavy libation and raucous celebration.” Holtzmann feels confused _\- Did I say that out loud? -_ As Kevin agrees with her she looks forward. A short ways down the street is the firehouse she shares with her friends. Bucky, Steve and Clint are arm in arm skipping towards the front door, singing some stupid song. Nat, hair flaming in the rising sun, has a passed out Luis flung over her shoulder. Lucky, her and Clint’s dog comes running out, tail wagging furiously, licking Luis’ face who remains peacefully unaware of his slobber makeover. Nick Fury, their landlord, is stood outside the front garden, hose in hand, watering the flowers. He looks over at them briefly, unimpressed as usual _\- How can one eye be so judgemental? -_ Holtzmann’s knees start to buckle as her eyes drift closed. A voice in her head says _\- Do you think the proprietor will have a room to let? -_ It is Kevin’s voice and Holtz feels unparalleled vindication _\- I knew it! -_ Erin’s body is a welcome warm weight as Holtz falls ungracefully to the ground and passes out.

### Back at the lab…

“Can you not, like, do that more quietly?” Steve moans as he slumps against the wall next to the door to Holtz’s lab.

Holtz struggles with her massive key ring, yanking on the door handle as she tries key after key, “I can’t open my eyes wide enough to find the right key, Rogers, and it’s all your fault, I’m sure of it.” The door finally pushes open and Holtz stumbles forward. It doesn’t feel so much like a victory as an inevitable stumbling block until she can finally sit down again at her favourite lab bench.

Steve shuffles in behind her. He pulls out his phone and checks the time, “My class is at ten. Do you think the students will mind if their still life model is their hungover professor flung over his desk slowly dying. I don’t have time to get a bowl of fruit or whatever. Hey, there’s a text from Bucky. They’re on the train and have just taken the last of the aspirin. Poor bastards.”

Holtz is stood over one of the workbenches, un-scrolling a rolled up technical drawing, “Isn’t it cookie week this week?”

Steve rolls his eyes, “Biscuit week, Holtzy, biscuit.” He stops short when Holtz turns around holding up one of the gingerbread house designs. “They took the wrong designs. Right now Bucky and Erin are travelling down to the Bake Off with highly classified Stark Technologies drawings for robots designed to build outhouses on the fucking Moon, Rogers. You can’t bake that shit!”

Steve feels an initial panic as his mind races to find a solution. It doesn’t take long before he is nodding at Holtz, the beginnings of a plan forming, “We’re going to have to break into the Great British Bake Off."

##  Part 3: Who Ya Gonna Call? 

#### WARNINGS:

Description of a bad asthma attack and difficulty breathing; Description of a cut arm (mention of blood, bleeding); Suggestion of disturbing lab experiments on human test subjects.

### Friday Night…

Holtzmann pulls over onto the grass, parking behind the bushes that lead into town, where the Great British Bake Off is filmed. They come to a rather abrupt halt, the car giving a bit of a jolt when she puts on the parking brake and turns off the engine. She and Rogers lumber out and inspect the location.

Steve shakes his head, “She’s huge, Holtzy, we’re gonna need more disguise than just these bushes. At least to cover her behind.”

Holtz pouts and pats the trunk of her car soothingly, “Don’t listen to him, Ecto, stuff just comes out of his mouth without thinking. We just have to hide you for a little while.” She steps back to the road and looks back at the second (third? fourth?) hand hearse she had acquired from Laufey & Sons Burial services back in New York. Refusing Starks offers of sports cars or custom boring whatevers, she had insisted that he ship it overseas with her when they set up the lab in South Humber. Patty had a cousin who did custom body work back in Red Hook. He proved his brilliance by not questioning Holtz’s specs once. Ecto was now pearl white with red detailing, a custom roof rack which held a power source of questionable origin “borrowed” from Starks vast archives of ancient relics (i.e. junk that people have left unattended). She and Erin had designed it together. Holtz loved that car, but right now she was wishing it was half the size, and perhaps a bit less glow-y.

They do the best they can by pushing Ecto a bit further off the road, slumping her into the ditch and covering the end with some fallen branches. It’s not terribly effective, but after an eight hour drive there’s only so much they are willing to do. They grab the gingerbread house plans and start to make their way to the town on foot. “Rule number one of the GBBO, Rogers, no outside contact until Star Baker is announced. We can’t let Erin and Bucky see us.”

Steve nods in the affirmative, “Stealth suit on and target acquired. This is my real super power, Holtz. Infiltration and evasion.” 

Holtz inspects his navy blue t-shirt with minimal silver star and stripe design, black jeans and black messenger bag. He would blend into the shadows if it weren’t for the fact that the shirt is short sleeved and his pale limbs practically glow in the dark, “When was the last time you saw some sun, Rogers? It’s like you have two glow sticks dangling from your shoulders.”

Steve sniffs, indignant, “It’s hot outside, if you hadn’t noticed. Besides, the real reason we’re so noticeable is that my partner thought it was a good idea to wear a red jacket and a backpack with rainbows all over it.” 

They bicker back and forth and about half an hour later they find themselves hiding behind corners and ducking below hedges to avoid being seen. They round a corner when they see a group coming up the lane heading toward a restaurant. They quickly back track and hide around the corner of a house. Suddenly Bucky’s voice can be heard coming from the group and despite Holtz trying to pull him back, Steve can’t help but peek around the side to catch sight of his friend.

Bucky looks exhausted and more disgruntled than usual, most likely from the late night they’d had. Beside him is Erin and another contestant who is walking close enough to bang into her shoulder as they walk. Bucky’s rough voice sounds exasperated, “You can’t just substitute rough puff. You will never get the lamination.”

“There’s only a few rounds left in the competition, Gary, you can’t cut corners now.” At the sound of Erin’s voice, Holtz stops tugging on Steve’s stealth suit and pushes him down so she can lean over him and look around the side of the building. 

They reach the restaurant and as Bucky holds the door open, Gary ushers Erin inside with a territorial hand on her lower back. “I think I know what I’m doing, Bucks, I didn’t get to be the 2005 youth pastry champion of East Essex without considerable natural skill.” Holtz glares at Gary and wills Bucky to yank his arm off. For his part, Bucky looks decidedly unhappy at the nickname and mutters none-too quietly, “So we’ve heard.”

As they disappear into the restaurant Steve and Holtz straighten up. Holtz looks decidedly upset. Steve shakes his head and punches her in the shoulder, “Come on, we have an hour to break into the hotel and replace the plans.” 

Holtz shakes off the disturbing sight of Gary’s hands on Erin and the urge to spy on them in the restaurant _\- Dating Manual Appendix B Troubleshooting Rule Number Ten: do not be overbearing, there is a fine line between caring and stalking -_ Holtz focuses on the task at hand, “We have to figure out which rooms they are in.”

They run along the side of the hotel until Holtz finds what she's looking for, the main internet and CCTV feeds, and performs what Steve refers to as Technological Trickery. In her backpack she has a jumble of connectors, homemade circuits and various gadgets. She pulls out what looks like a military grade laptop which she claims she could run over with Ecto and barely get a scratch. Within a few minutes, with the aid of a litany of mumbling thanking any deity that would listen that she thought to have a virtual machine running Windows 95, Holtz has hacked into the hotel’s ancient computer system and gotten Bucky and Erin's room numbers along with the hotel floor plans. Unfortunately, their friends are both on the third floor. On the plus side, the hotel is quaint, old, and covered in vines.

Steve just about launches himself at the wall ready to storm Bucky’s room when he remembers one salient point _\- Did I bring my inhaler? -_ Holtz bumps into him when he stops short but he barely notices as he searches around all the junk in his messenger bag, pushing aside his prescription med bottles, loose candy and gum packs, jabbing himself in the hand with a pencil and slicing a finger on the paper of his must-sketch-immediately pad. His hand finally closes around the tube of his emergency puffer _\- All good -_ He looks up wayyyy up to the third floor and gives the vines an experimental yank. Holtz is beside him looking skeptical. He nudges her and when she looks over he gives a curt nod the _Suck it up Let’s do this_ nod. They start to climb.

_Whoever said climbing vines was easy was obviously drunk -_ Holtz huffs again and yanks herself up another inch or two. She has almost reached what she determined was Erin’s window. Rogers has had to pause a few times already to catch his breath, but so far he was still breathing, as evidenced by the almost constant wheezing from below. Holtz knew better than to suggest he wait for her at the bottom. Finally, the window sill is within reach, it’s flimsy latch no match for her switchblade. With considerable effort she forces the window up enough to flop over onto the sill and pull herself inside. She turns to drag Rogers in and finds he has already flung his bag in after her and is clinging to the sill. Grabbing him under the shoulders she pulls him the rest of the way in and they tumble onto the floor. They both take a few minutes to catch their breath each secretly vowing to either improve their personal fitness or to never do that again.

When Steve’s racing heart finally calms down enough that he can move he gets up, ignoring every scream his joints direct at him _\- I have pushed through much worse for smaller stakes -_ he reminds himself, it is practically a daily mantra. He grabs his bag and turns to Holtz, questioning in a complicated series of hand signals which room is Bucky’s. After a few minutes lost to incomprehensible hand gestures and silent mouth wording, Holtz finally gets the point across that Bucky’s room is next door on the left.

After years of practice avoiding his most enthusiastic and persistent students, Steve moves near soundlessly out the door. Holtz is impressed, though she’d never admit it. She gets to work looking through Erin’s room, peeking into drawers and closets. She discovers Erin’s small suitcase tucked under the bed and carefully drags it out _\- This is not an invasion of privacy, I am doing a good thing here for my best friend who, let’s face it, I would do anything for because I am in love with her, but am too lame to actually just say it. Like, creating a gravitational wave multiplier is somehow not a problem but being honest about my feelings is impossible. Ugh, you’re better than this Holtzmann. Wait. Is that Dr. Snuggles? -_ Holtz pulls out a white fuzzy bunny rabbit on which she had jokingly stitched a pair of goggles made from felt and acrylic. A faded NASA mission badge is stuck to one arm and a worn looking Stark Industries name tag is stuck to it’s chest. Holtz runs her fingers over the clever stitching where she had changed “Stark” to “Dork”. Erin had added the “Dr. Snuggles” to the name tag. Holtz ruffles up the head where Erin had taken a yellow highlighter and coloured the fur on top. Some of the yellow was still there though Dr. Snuggles had obviously been well hugged over the years since Holtz had given it to her. It had been a present for Erin’s first day at work at South Humber, a little Holtz bunny for her office. Holtzmann had all but forgotten about it though, obviously Erin had not. It had been nestled carefully amongst her clothes with great care _-Maybe… -_ Holtzmann blinks back threatening ocular wetness as the sight of Erin with that other contestant flashes unbidden into her mind _\- Damned dust allergies, focus you have a mission -_ She briefly squeezes Dr. Snuggles and puts him carefully to the side. It doesn’t take long to find the rolled up plans tucked into a side pouch of the suitcase. She replaces the Stark Robotics plans with the gingerbread house plans and puts everything back the way she had found it _\- Easy peasy -_ She takes a deep breath and tries to feel satisfied _\- Try harder_.

Steve had more trouble unlocking Bucky’s hotel room door and dismantling the booby traps his not paranoid, just cautious best friend had set up than actually finding and replacing the cookie sculpture plans. After fiddling with Holtz’s switch blade in the lock and expertly avoiding the chalked fishing line in front of the door, Steve gently released the primed and readied crossbow made from a bent wire hanger, elastic bands and toilet rolls tightened into compact cardboard spears. The supplies were no doubt pilfered from the room _\- That would have hurt -_ Steve eyes the sharp end of the MacGyvered arrows with approval when he spies the homemade circuit and wire hooked around the window _\- But that would have hurt more -_ He is suddenly very relieved that they hadn’t tried to go through Bucky’s room first. He steps cautiously over to the bed where an army duffle has been hastily thrown. It is covered in the faded drawings that Steve had added to over the years with a black sharpie, stylized designs of movie monsters and machines dated by how faded they are. Steve looks for the first one he ever drew, the T-100 endoskeleton, arm stretching along one end of the zipper, almost 15 years faded. The bag is wide open and the contents a ruffled mess. Steve clamps down on the urge to fold all of Bucky’s clothes, grits his teeth and wades through mismatched socks and crumpled t-shirts. He absolutely, probably does not let his hands linger on boxer briefs, finds the plans and replaces them _\- Mission accomplished -_ He looks at his phone for the time _\- Immediate egress required go go go! -_ As he turns to leave something on the side table beside the bed catches his eye. He steps closer and sees a photograph bent in a few places and worn around the corners. It is he and Bucky sitting on the steps of Steve’s mom’s old house in Brooklyn. They have their arms slung around each other’s necks and are beaming at the camera. Steve remembers that summer, it was the last one before his mother passed away. They had just graduated high school. By the end of the year Steve will have started art school and Bucky will have completed basic. Steve hordes the image of Bucky’s bright and open face, he hasn’t seen his best friend smile like that in years. His face suddenly falls at the thought that he may never see it again. His mother, Brooklyn, a happy Bucky before his experiences that led to him losing his arm, all of it Steve rolls up into a tight ball and shoves it into the depths. Before he can think much about the position of the photo, angled toward the pillow, or even dwell on its very presence, he refocuses on the mission at hand. He carefully re-cocks the makeshift bow, narrowly avoids the chalked fishing line and sneaks out the way he came. 

They decide to forego the viney wall and walk out of the hotel by a back door that leads to a small garden. As they dash through an opening in the hedges they stop short at the sight before them: across a large field and a small bridge over a bubbling stream, they can make out the big house as seen in the Great British Bake Off. Glowing ethereally in the moonlight are the baking tents, beckoning to those with insatiable, mischievous curiosity. Steve looks at Holtz. Holtz looks at Steve. They smile in unison and take off at a sprint towards the Tent.

The flaps give way easily as they roll underneath and onto the floor of the Great British Bake Off. Holtz turns on her penlight and makes her way to the centre aisle feeling giddy with excitement at being on the set of her favourite t.v. show. She hears Steve give an uncharacteristic giggle. As she swivels around she admonishes him, “Quiet Rogers, we’re gonna get busted if you make too much noise.” She points the light at his face but he only grins ear to ear, unperturbed by her warning. He gestures furiously for her to come over.

“Ever wonder what happens to those perfect bakes the judges make?” Steve can barely keep his voice in a whisper as he opens the refrigerator door wide enough that they can peek in. Holtz’s jaw drops open in astonishment. Inside the shelves are laden with lemon drizzle cakes, iced buns and Victoria sponges, and those are just the ones that she can name off the top of her head. All were made with the supernatural skill of Paul and Mary and ALL are simply begging to be sampled. Steve reaches out a hand, hypnotized by the iced buns, “They won’t miss one or two, will they?”

Holtz is about to agree when they hear a muffled, “What a total creep,” coming from outside of the tent. Holtz switches off her light as Steve gently closes the fridge, giving one last longing look to the iced buns. They slowly move to the far wall from whence they came as the outside voices get closer. 

A man says in a haughty voice, “They’ll let anyone in these days.” 

A woman gives a snort, “You have to admit, it makes for good television. Speaking of which, can we just talk about the Sarge for a minute?” 

Steve and Holtz pause on their way towards escape and look at eachother at the mention of Bucky. Steve narrows his eyes and cups a hand behind his good ear. 

“I don’t mind if we do, that man is dark, brooding and delicious. Too bad he only pays attention to the Doc and that Amazon goddess, Briana something. I mean, did you see the way he was smiling at her over dinner? I didn’t think the Sarge even knew how to smile.” 

Steve goes from looking angrily in the direction of the voices to surprised shock. 

The woman gives an exaggerated sigh, “It’s Diana, and she is so far out of anyone’s league, no wonder Gary set his sights on the Doc.” 

It’s Holtz’s turn to bristle in distaste. No longer wanting to waste another second listening to the crap spewing out of the mouths of some show producers, she grabs Steve’s arm and yanks him towards the tent wall. They roll under the flap just as the producers enter the Tent, turning on lights and checking supplies for the next morning. 

They run as quietly as they can around the corner of the Big House and stop to catch their breath. Steve just stares straight ahead in shock, “Bucky smiled at someone.”

Holtz stops and turns to look at him, in no mood for a Rogers descent into self pity. Not feeling too happy herself after being reminded again about Erin and Gary, she points out the obvious, “Yeah well it had to happen sometime, why not to an Amazon goddess.” Steve looks at her, and in that moment he’s a lost little kid. Holtz gives a deep sigh, and decides to take pity on her friend, “It doesn’t mean anything, Steve, they are allowed to make friends aside from us.”

Steve just nods, not entirely convinced, “I guess.” Unsure if the sudden chill he’s feeling is from a sudden drop in temperature or the creeping dread that he may lose Bucky, he gropes around in his bag for a sweater, but there’s nothing that can help him _\- Wasn’t it sweltering just a moment ago? -_ At the silence he glances up to notice that Holtz is no longer paying attention to him. “Hey what are you looking at?” Holtz’s gaze had drifted from him to a window in the big house above his head. He spins around casting his eyes from window to window, “What is it?”

Holtz points at a window near the middle of the first floor, “Do you see her? That girl, right there!” Steve shakes his head and Holtz’s voice starts to rise, “Right there, Rogers! She’s banging on the window. I think she’s screaming!”

This would normally be the kind of joke that Steve would fall for, not being the type to turn away from someone in trouble. He would call Holtz out on it being a really inappropriate time for pranks but he has literally never heard genuine alarm in her voice before. Nuclear meltdown warning sirens could go off and she would be completely in control, not rapidly paling with a look of utter bafflement _\- I mean confusion is for normal people -_ “I don’t hear anything.” He cups a hand behind his good ear and looks over the windows again. Just as he passes back over the fourth from the western edge of the house movement catches his eye. At first he doesn’t understand what he’s seeing. Then, just as his brain registers the dark shadow amongst the pale curtains in the window as the gaping jaw of someone soundlessly screaming bloody murder, something large falls on his shoulder. It’s strong grip spins him around, knocking him into Holtz’s side. Steve is scared speechless, which is so unprecedented, so unusual an occurrence, that his knees give out and he sits down hard on the ground.

Holtzmann is still fixated on what she saw in the house and grabs the arm that is holding her still, “We have to help her, quickly, I’m sure I have a sonic concentrator we can use to break the window, ugh, just let go of me please and I can get my …”

Holtz is interrupted by a deep, gravelly voice that sounds as though it is coming straight up from the earth, “Help who? The only people I see who need help are two lost busybodies who took a wrong turn after breaking and entering onto private property. Bloody fans, aren’t ya. Here to follow around that silver fox eh? wouldn’t be the first time.”

Holtz pushes off his arm and points back at the house, “There is someone screaming for help.” She looks back but whoever she had seen in the window is gone and only the gathering clouds lit by the moon reflect back towards them from the glass. Holtz stops her mounting tirade short _\- This is it, this is what irrationality feels like -_ She looks to Steve in desperation _\- Please say you saw what I saw -_ Steve looks up at her from his position on the ground and gives a slight nod, a confirmation. He then shakes his head almost imperceptibly, but the message is clear: Keep this to ourselves. Holtz looks back to the man who startled them. He is huge, absolutely towering over them, with long scraggly hair and a dark beard, coveralls smeared with dirt and a scowl that promises that he’s not above picking them up and throwing them off the lawn. “Hagrid?” Holtz asks tentatively.

The man’s scowl only deepens, “It’s Mr. Logan to you. Master gardener for the big house ‘ere and if I were you I wouldn't go poking around, ‘specially at night.”

Steve manoeuvres around in the grass until he can lift himself up to standing with the least amount of pained groans as possible. Once upright he finds himself staring right into the barrel chest of the Master gardener. He looks way up again, no longer intimidated now that it is clear the man is neither monster nor ghost, “Why especially at night?”

Mr. Logan narrows his eyes and looks at them both like they’re completely daft, “You ain’t ever heard a’this place, I take it.” As they shake their heads in the negative he leans down so he can look them both straight in the eyes. Holtz leans back involuntarily while Steve stands his ground out of sheer stubborn habit. The gardener is nearly nose to nose with him. He smells of rich earth mixed with the sweet tang of pipe tobacco. “I have been living on these lands my whole life and tending these gardens for most of ‘em, so you can believe me when I tell you not a thing went on in that house that I didn't know about. It ain't my job to educate tourists like you two, but I will tell you one thing. I ain't set foot over that threshold in over forty years, and I suggest you steer clear if you know what's good for you.” The gardener straightens back up and waves a dismissive hand at Steve and Holtz, “Now be off with ya before I call the cops.”

Holtz can see the moment when her stubborn friend decides that, no, he will not be off with himself until he gets some answers. Before his hands can settle on his hips she yanks his arm and drags him away back down the lawn, “C’mon Rogers, getting busted for trespassing would be highly inconvenient and counter mission.” Steve opens his mouth to protest but obviously thinks better of it and starts to jog away from the big house. Holtz risks a look over her shoulder: the master gardener stands on the lawn looking down at their retreat, the big house, free of screaming apparitions, looming behind him. A cloud passes over the moon and cloaks them in darkness as they make their way back to the town.

When they reach the road that would take them back to Ecto they slow to a walk, each lost in their own thoughts, minds spinning over the events of the night. As they reach the hearse they each slow to a standstill. Holtz looks over at Rogers. Rogers looks over at Holtz.

“We can’t leave now, after that!”  
“We gotta find out what's going on.”

Really, it had been settled as soon as Mr. Logan uttered the words I wouldn't go poking around: they were going to stay and solve the mystery of the big house.

### Saturday Morning...

“A heater. Ventilation and a heater.” Holtz grabs the vine attached to the drain pipe and yanks herself up a few more inches. They had spent a cold damp night shivering together in the back of Ecto, trying to get a few precious hours of sleep while jumping at every night creature that decided to pay them a visit. Steve had come up with the brilliant idea of breaking back into the hotel and using their friends’ showers to wash away the night spent in the bed of the hearse.

Steve wheezes, a few feet below her, “Don’t forget a mattress.” He wipes the sweat from his brow with the back of his arm. The early morning sun had come on strong heating up the latent humidity from the day before. Today was promising to be a scorcher. His joints scream as he yanks himself up and gets a foothold on a chipped brick. They had waited until the contestants had left for their day of baking and attacked the vined wall once again.

“Well, obviously a mattress, Rogers. Pillows.” Holtz chanced a look up, they were close.

Steve accidentally rips out a few leaves and throws them over his shoulder with an apologetic grimace at the vines before resuming his climb. “A duvet. Or a couple’a sleeping bags. Chocolate bars or candy or something.”

“Water tank, toilet supplies. I’ll get Stark on it as soon as we get back. He’s got to have some high tech Dune-style water filtration systems. I mean, what else would he use to wiz in his suit.”

Steve pauses in his ascent and looks up, skeptical, “Water reclamation in is his Armani? I know he jets all over the world but he probably can afford a few minutes every day to change.”

Holtz looks away quickly _\- Way to get your clearance revoked -_ “Uhhh … Sssshhhhhh we’re almost at the window.” She deftly pushes up Erin’s window and they scramble in. Silently, they split up.

After deftly breaking into and disarming Bucky’s room, Steve pauses only briefly on his way to the bathroom, eyeing Bucky’s duffel and wondering if his friend would miss a t-shirt or a pair of briefs. He can’t help but smile to himself as he imagines wearing one of Bucky’s shirts, at least two sizes too large for him. He turns on the water and undresses quickly _\- His underwear would probably fall around my knees. Bucky does fill out those tight jeans rather well … -_ Steve’s mind wanders to thoughts of his best friend’s toned thighs and round ass, a.k.a. The Brooklyn Peach, as he steps under the water.

Meanwhile, Holtz’s mind wanders in a similar direction as she picks up Erin’s shampoo bottle and pops the lid. The scent of vanilla and pear instantly brings up the feeling of being tight in Erin’s embrace, face tucked into her neck, hand drifting down her back _\- Remember her giggle when my hand found the dimples in her lower back, the way she squirmed but held tighter ... -_ Holtz loses herself to the memory.

They meet back up in the hallway, both with goofy grins on their faces. Immediately suspicious of the other, they exchange narrowed eyes. Steve puts his hands on his hips, “You’re late.”

Holtzmann balks, “If I’m late, then you’re late too. And don’t try to pretend it was because you had to blow dry your hair.”

Steve reaches out to hit her middle but they just end up snickering as they jostle each other down the stairs, hurriedly raiding the leftovers from the breakfast room and evading the staff. They slip out the side door.

As they make their way back to the big house, Holtz unzips her brightly patterned backpack and pulls out a pair of goggles. Thicker than her regular safety goggles, these ones have additional contraptions sticking out around the sides. Steve snatches them and holds them over his glasses, “Cool! What’re they for?”

Holtz snatches them back in a huff, “They’re for seeing long distances, Mighty Rogers. I thought we could have a little look-see at our intrepid bakers.”

They settle themselves behind a bush in the stand of trees closest to the side of the large baking tent. While Steve rummages around his bag for the bug spray, Holtz optimizes the goggles for viewing their friends _\- It's not spying, exactly -_ Holtz scans around the benches until she finds Erin and Bucky leaning together on the counter at the back of the room. They seem to be looking at the other contestants, contemplating them. “Found ‘em.”

Steve pokes Holtz in the arm until she hands over the goggles. “They must be waiting for their first batch or something. Damn I don't know how they handle the heat in there. I mean, I’m melting enough as it is here in the shade and they're standing around ovens all day. Oh, looks like Buck’s on the move …. ha! You should see the glare he threw at Gary, classic Bucky … looks like he’s heading over to Diana’s bench ….. huh.” Steve lowers the goggles and frowns towards the Tent.

Holtz grabs the goggles, “What?.... Oh…” She watches as Bucky masterfully grabs three trays of Diana’s bakes before she accidentally shoves them off the bench. She gives a radiant smile and says something that makes Bucky laugh in return. As he puts the trays down on the next bench over he is chatting the whole time, smiling. “Jeezus, I hardly recognize him. Did he shave?”

The corner of Steve’s mouth lifts even as his heart sinks into his stomach, “It’s Bucky. It’s soooooooo Bucky. I mean he used to chat people up all the time back in Brooklyn, you know, before the accident. It’s good.” Steve looks down and brushes off his knees, “It's the way it should be. We better get to the house if we want to get past the gatekeeper.”

Holtz gives one last look at Erin, who is racing back to her oven obviously swearing up a storm, puts the goggles away and follows Rogers through the trees.

It doesn’t take long before they find a small side door in a shaded alcove through which they can break into the house. Holtz had come prepared for electronic surveillance, coded locks, even guard dogs, but there was nothing. Nothing, but the icky sensation of clearing the spider webs from the old key hole lock. Within minutes they were navigating the corridors between larders, kitchens, gun rooms and endless closets. Holtz waves a handheld contraption from side to side, the shapes of walls and open doorways illuminating the screen with every sweep.

Rogers looks at the flickering screen, “Let me guess, you got the idea from Aliens. That bit when the space marines arrives at the compound on LV-426.”

“Barnes may have had a smidgen of influence in the design, but I’ll have you know that space marines from the eighties would not have had access to the materials this baby runs on. You don’t even want to know what type of radiation Lorna here is spitting out. All within non-mutatable levels I assure you.” Holtz snickers as Steve’s look of alarm morphs into incredulousness and finally into deep disappointment. She cuts him off before the inevitable lecture into the careless risk of their lives, all perfectly hypocritical of course considering their current adventure, “OK, we have to go up one level. Whoever we saw was in the fourth window from the right on the west side of the house.”

After five times up and down the corridor along the west side of the house, they find themselves standing in the middle of the hall staring at the wall. Holtz examines the screen in her hand and gives it a shake, “There’s some sort of interference here. According to Lorna we’re the only heat producing bodies in this entire place, except for whatever is on the other side of this wall. It’s weird, like the whole space in front of us is hot.”

Steve frowns up and down the hallway, hands on hips, “I don’t get it. This is where the window should be. The library in the corner only has three windows and there’s no other door until the stairway going down over there.”

Holtz closes her eyes in personal disappointment _\- I can't believe I didn't think of this before -_ “Rogers, this is classic Poirot or Hot Fuzz or some village mystery Luis is always going on about.”

Steve mentally slaps himself across the face _\- Focus Mighty Rogers! -_ “Secret doors in the library.” He nudges Holtz with his elbow as they head back the way they had come, “And you call yourself a scientist. I'm disappointed Holtzy.”

“I cannot be responsible for all of the intel, Little Steven. You have to start pulling your weight around here sometime. I bring the tech, you bring your eidetic memory regarding the collected works of JK Rowling and CS Lewis.”

They get to work on the bookcase on the far wall of the library, pulling books and running their hands along the seams, but to no avail. Holtz stands in front of a painting of a man in 1880’s garb standing as though he were about to ready his troops to attack the bowl of fruit set on the table beside him. She sways back and forth, “Wherever I go, his eyes follow me.”

Steve starts picking up stuff on the table near the middle of the room, “This is probably his house and he's probably watching we don't steal anything.”

Holtz wheels around, trying to get a clearer signal on Lorna’s screen, “Don't joke about the dead, Rogers. Corporeal manifestations of post-spiritual cross dimensional aftermath is a real and measurable phenomenon.”

Steve examines a bronze statue of a falcon in the middle of the table, “‘Post-spiritual cross dimensional aftermath’? That’s so redundant.” He pointedly ignores Hotz’s glare and smoothes a hand over the head of the falcon, “Wow, this looks just like Sam’s tattoo he got with his squadron.” He runs a hand down the wing, admiring the intricate feather work and smooth lines giving the bird a look of fearlessness and strength, “Hey, isn’t his station actually really nearby? Yeah, he gave Bucky and Erin a lift down here a couple weeks ago.”

Holtz waves her instrument back and forth across the room, her brow creased in frustration at the apparently malfunctioning equipment, “RAF Lehigh, approximately ten kilometres west from our current position. I just can’t understand it. What could possibly be generating this much interference?” She looks over at Steve who just shrugs and shakes his head in the negative, “Careful Rogers, don’t break anything.”

Steve scoffs, “Are you kidding me, this thing is as solid as Bucky’s bicep when he … shit! I broke it!” Steve had grabbed the falcon’s wing and leaned on it with all his weight. It had seemed stable but all of a sudden the wing rotated and he fell forward. He could feel the laugh rising from the depth of Holtz’s trolling soul. Just as he fixes her with a look of indignant disappointment to save his own embarrassment, the entire bookshelf on the far wall starts to swing outwards. They stare at it for a full ten seconds before they look at eachother, grinning. “I knew that would happen.”

Holtz snorts as they quickly make their way into the secret room and stand looking out the fourth missing window. Holtz puts Lorna back in her bag. “Well, this isn’t working, looks like we’ll have to investigate old school.”

Steve closes the bookcase slash secret door behind them, leaving a small opening just in case it has an equally tricky lock from the inside. “You mean with these?” He pulls out some vinyl gloves and throws a pair over to Holtz, “Can’t leave any clues for the coppers.”

Holtz deftly snags them out of the air, “Little late for that. I don’t even want to know why you have rubber gloves in your back pockets. No, no, don’t give me some ‘it’s for my art’ excuse, I’m putting them on, no more comments please. I burned off my fingerprints ages ago when I first started working with Stark, but apparently they grow back.”

Steve pauses shuffling some papers on a desk, “What? Why would you need to...never mind, here look at this. These papers look like a bunch of notes and letters, most written with an actual typewriter. The dates are from the seventies, but the paper couldn’t be older than a year at most, barely yellowed. And look! Sitting in full sunshine. Weird.”

Holtz looks around the room, definitely a home office of some kind. “A lot of pictures of some unhappy teenagers on the wall. Maybe somebody’s kids?”

Steve looks up at the photos and frowns, “Again, the pictures can’t be older than a few years, but look at their clothes. I have pictures of my Mom holding me when I was a baby in bell bottoms just like those. Maybe some sort of reenactment thing? Cosplay maybe?” - Cosplay of what? On set photos from the original Star Wars?

Holtz picks up what looks like a lab book and flips through the pages, “Maybe, I mean people will cosplay anything. I have a Halloween costume of Sir Isaac Newton from when I was twelve because I loved calculus so much. And you should see Erin in her Marie Curie dress, it is H.O.T…. hey listen to this. ‘I believe that I have finally solved the final barrier towards full psychic transmorgaphication between existential planes. There remains only one more experiment. Though dangerous, I believe Charles could be the one to breakthrough to the other side of the phantasmogorphic wall.’“ Holtz shuts the lab book and drops it on the desk in disgust, “We’ve known since 1986 that psychic transmographication, the actual way to spell it thank you very much Doctor Nobody, is absolute total bullshit. You know, it’s crap research like this that gives true ectothereal inter-planar research a bad name. I mean really, quantum entanglement arguments alone will debunk most crackpot blah blah blah. Seriously, blah blah blah blah ecto-blah...”

Steve automatically tunes out the jargon-filled rant and wisely decides to say nothing as he knows absolutely nothing about what Holtz is talking about. Except perhaps for the fact that she and Erin take it very seriously, Stark industries dumps a tonne of money into it and Bucky thinks it’s really cool _\- Seems legit -_ He continues looking over letters from a Doctor A.Z. to a Doctor Erskine and a Colonel Phillips. They are addressed to the Azzano laboratories _\- Looks like it’s nearby -_ The letters appear to have been ‘returned to sender’. Other letters near the bottom of the pile seem to be a continuing discussion between A.Z. and Erskine regarding some sort of experiment. Newer letters seem to be written in angrier handwriting, arguing about ‘subject welfare’. All the letters are dated between 1971 and 1974 _\- Weird...ugh! What a gross smell, I bet Holtz left that monitor thingy on and it’s going to burn a hole in her bag again -_ “Holtz, check your bag. One of your girls is having a meltdown.” Steve feels a cough building up in his throat _\- Ugh it’s getting worse_.

Holtz sniffs the air, “That was one time Rogers, I wouldn’t put an experimental chemical fusion battery in my backpack again.” She checks her bag anyways when a loud _CLICK_ comes from behind them. They spin around and find that not only has the secret bookcase shut behind them, but the entire thing is engulfed in flames _\- How did we not notice that?!? -_ “Whaaaa!?!”

Steve turns around and points frantically towards the desk they had been investigating. He tries to echo Holtz’s exclamation of surprise but a volley of coughs wracks his chest. He manages to wheeze out, “The letters.” Licks of flame seem to have emerged from the center of each pile of papers and notebooks haphazardly strewn across the desk from their searching. His lungs feel like they are being squeezed by an invisible grip. Every inhale becomes harder as the room quickly fills with smoke.

Holtz grabs Steve to her side as _\- he just isn’t moving away from the goddamm flames Rogers! -_ “Jeezus, it’s not just the papers, it’s the photos too.” The stoic faces of the young teenagers on the wall start to blister, the edges of the photos curling inwards, rapidly turning brown as flames breach the surface. Steve is coughing continuously now and can’t seem to get any air in _\- Shit shit shit shit! -_ Holtz grabs him around the shoulders and forces them to crouch down while moving quickly towards the window. The fire is spreading more rapidly than she has ever seen before, erupting from seemingly random places about the room. When the long curtains framing the window start to go she begins to panic and scrambles at the latch on the window _\- Yeah obviously it’s going to be fused with some sort of invisible solder, holy fucking shit! -_ She pounds on the window, yelling at the top of her lungs, but quickly realizes the futility. She has to let go of Steve who doubles over on the floor _\- Sorry Rogers! -_ She grabs her largest instrument out of her back pack _\- Sorry Lorna -_ pulls back her arm and lets loose. 

The glass gives way with a smash. Pain shoots up Holtz’s arm when she pulls it back in. She punches out the glass in the bottom pane as best she can, throws out her back pack, hauls Steve up by his armpits and pushes him through. She follows tumbling out after him onto the lawn. Steve is clutching his chest staring up at the sky trying to draw in a breath, just anything at all. Holtz drags him as far across the lawn as she can and drops on the ground behind him, pulling him up so he is leaning against her chest. She grabs for his bag which is still slung across his body. She holds him to her with one hand to his chest _\- Humans aren’t meant to have heartbeats like a fucking jackrabbit, goddamit Rogers! -_ She searches his pack with her free hand for his emergency inhaler _\- The blue one, the blue one, the blue one -_ Steve grips her hand at his chest, squeezing with a supernaturally strong grip _\- for someone with glow stick arms, ow! -_ She looks down and sees her arm covered in blood, Steve’s grip stemming the flow as best he can. “Yeah, yeah. So I got a cut breaking us outta there, so sorry I’m getting your stealth suit all messy, Mighty Rogers.” _\- Found it! -_ She pops the cap and shoves the inhaler in his mouth. She pushes the plunger and waits as Steve wheezes in. She tries to steady her own breathing as they repeat the process. It seems to take an eternity until Steve’s breaths become less strained and they finally settle down into a shaken rhythm. Holtz leans back feeling a bit woozy all of a sudden and lets Steve grab a cloth from his bag. It’s stained with paint and charcoal but does the job on her arm. She lies down her eyes drifting closed.

________________

Steve rubs his chest and just sits, breathing for a moment. A warm breeze blows his bangs into his eyes. There is nothing but the sound of of the leaves rustling in the wind, a songbird in the nearby woods _\- It’s so peaceful…. Wait, what? -_ He brushes his hair out of his eyes and looks back towards the house. It looks exactly as it did when they had arrived that morning, with the exception of a broken window. No people running to get help, no alarms and certainly no fire, “Holtz. Explain.”

Holtz rolls over on her side and starts to push herself up, wincing from the pain in her arm. “Well, I just saved your life so you owe me one.” When no snark comes back her way she looks up towards the house, fully expecting the roof to be collapsing in by that point. “Huh.”

In that moment, two things happen: Holtz realizes that she has experienced her very first physical encounter with a ghost and a burglar alarm starts going off inside the house. Their reaction is immediate, borne from years of experience raising hell in the name of social justice and abject hedonism: Run.

### Saturday Afternoon… 

The bartender slides two more pints of ale in front of his mid-morning customers, “Rough day so far?”

Steve wraps his hands around the cool glass gratefully, “You could say that.”

Holtz upends her glass and gulps half of it in one go. She sets it down hard on the counter sloshing a little over the rim, earning an unimpressed side eye from the bartender and a hiccup from Steve. “I think the Great British Bake Off is haunted.”

Steve slaps a hand over her mouth, “Shhhhhhhhhhhh!” The bartender just laughs and walks away, shaking his head at them damn gen-exers.

Holtz slaps his hand away and grabs for her glass again. She can see Steve nodding to himself out of the corner of her eye. “I can see you thinking, Rogers. What’s the plan?”

“The falcon. There’s a connection between that house and the air force station, Lehigh.” He pushes his glass away, barely touched, “I think we should go see Sam.” 

“Agreed.” As Holtz sets down her empty glass she claps in joy when the bartender returns with two plates piled high with hamburgers and chips, “But first, burgers.”

Steve makes grabby hands for his plate and agrees, “Obviously.”

________________

“Ughhhh…” Holtz rubs her belly as she and Steve shuffle down the road towards Ecto. The mix of rapidly diminishing adrenaline, the loss of blood and a greasy lunch is taking a toll on her stomach, “It’s so hot! That thermal distortion on the road is messing with my mind. I keep thinking I see Obi-wan in the distance telling me to go to Dagobah.”

Steve covers the mic of his cell phone with his hand, “That was a blizzard, not a heatwave.” He puts the phone back to his ear, “No, I’m here Sam, Holtzmann was just hallucinating again. Ow! Sam, Holtz hit me! … yes, I am paying attention….on our way as we speak. Thanks man.”

They find Ecto in its hiding spot perhaps a little too easily, and with some effort, in the form of Steve pushing will all his might while Holtz guns the engines in reverse, extract it from the ditch, hop in and drive off towards RAF Lehigh. It’s not long before the roads start to narrow and the last farm house they passed was at least five klicks behind. There is nothing but fields lined by stands of trees.

As they pass a particularly dense line of Ash, Steve points out the front window to their left, “What is that?” Set back from the road is a large complex surrounded by rusting barbed wire fence that comes right up to the road. Holtz stops Ecto in front of what must have been the front gate. A series of long chains and locks, keep the gate closed. An empty guard house, the windows smashed in and whatever paint is left on its walls is faded and peeling, stands sentry. Beyond, the complexes building are dark with exposure, collapsed roofs and endless empty windows are a stark contrast to the bright sunny sky. The life that flourishes beyond the borders of the complex have not encroached on the obviously abandoned building, as if avoiding the desolation all together.

Steve starts to feel a cold sadness looking at the destruction before them, “It looks like a bomb has been dropped on it.”

Holtz takes out her binoculars and leans out the window, “Or a massive fire. All around every window frame are black scorch marks. This is what the big house should have looked like this morning if, you know, the fire had been real and not a physical manifestation of, to put it plainly, a poltergeist-like force.” Holtz sits back in her seat and looks over at Steve seriously, “I know we haven’t said the g-word out loud, but you know we had an encounter with a ghost, right?”

Steve looks like he’s weighing all the evidence in his mind but doesn’t take long to settle on something, “I don’t know what happened to us this morning, all I know is that something or someone doesn’t want us to keep looking into this. There’s something about the girl we saw in the window last night, we can help her, even if she is a ... ghost. I just know we can’t stop now.”

They keep going but it doesn’t take long before they pass the burned out complex and see their friend Sam in the distance at the entrance to Lehigh, waving them over.

________________

“Okay, just slow down. Did you just tell me you busted through a plate glass window to save his skinny ass? Let me see that arm, Holtzmann.” Sam does not look too impressed at the makeshift bandage. He pulls open a drawer of his desk and pulls out a med kit.

Holtz keeps her arm still and grimaces as Sam starts to clean the cut on her arm, “We just told you a poltergeist-like entity tried to kill us and all you want to do is put bandaids on my arm? Do they at least have G.I. Joe on them?”

Steve coughs into his hand to get Sam’s attention, “I had a near-fatal asthma attack.”

Sam doesn’t even look up from taping up the bandages to Holtz’s arm, “You look fine to me. Now look, I heard everything you two just told me, but forgive me if it takes me more than a nanosecond to process that you two have trespassed on private property, saw a girl screaming, slept in the back of a hearse lying in a ditch, trespassed again! Then proceeded to get your dumb asses burned by imaginary fire. Oh, then had a few pints before noon at the local pub and drunk dialed me at work. Now hold on there Steve! I can see the righteous fury burning in your eyes so just cool that shit for a moment, okay? Okay. Now I know how you two get when you let your imaginations get going. Remember when you were convinced Old Man Fury was really the head of a covert spy organization? Hm? You bugged his walking group and Mrs. Carter next door opened a can of whoopass on you for acting like overexcited toddlers who just broke into their mums secret chocolate stash. Don’t, Steve. Let me finish.” Sam leans over his desk towards his two oft-frustrating friends, hands folded and gaze serious, “I believe you.”

Steve’s mouth flaps open and closed, torn between the protest on the tip of his tongue and disbelief at what Sam has just said.

Holtz leans forward to meet Sam’s gaze, “You know something, don’t you.”

Sam sighs and leans back, “I’m going to regret this, but yeah. Something you guys said sounds familiar.” He stands up and heads towards the door of his office, “Come on. I have something to show you.”

A few minutes and five awkward salutes from Holtz to every passing service member later finds them standing in the hall outside of the officer’s mess in front of a wall covered in framed photographs. Sam gestures to the entire collection, “The entire history of this station is up here, every commander, every member, every achievement … and every failure, if you know where to look.” He points to a black and white photograph off to the side. In it a small, stout, bespeckled man in a white lab coat is surrounded by a dozen young teenagers.

Steve leans in a peers closely at the expressionless faces, their hairstyles and clothes obviously from the early seventies, “These are the same kids we saw in the photos at the house!”

Holtz points at the buildings in the background of the photo, “That’s the burned out complex next door.” She turns to Sam, “It looks like a laboratory.”

Steve immediately straightens up and looks to Sam in horror, “What are a bunch of teenagers doing at a military laboratory?”

Sam quickly looks around to see that they are alone, “Shhhhhhhh! Keep your voices down. Look, all I’ve heard are rumours. They don’t talk about the fire here and it isn’t exactly encouraged to go full Scooby, snooping around looking for answers. That guy in the lab coat is Doctor Zola and he died in the fire that destroyed the lab, that’s all I know.”

A voice pipes up from right behind Sam’s ear, “Doctor Arnim Zola and he was one creepy son of a bitch.”

Startled, Holtz on instinct throws whatever is in her hand towards the voice (luckily nothing) and Steve absolutely does not let out a squeak.

Sam immediately salutes the newcomer, “Captain! I was just showing my friends here a bit of Lehigh history.”

The captain holds out her hand and looks Steve and Holtz straight in the eye as she introduces herself, “Group Captain Maria Hill, station commander. Let me guess, Sam, your friends noticed the abomination next door and they want to know more about it.”

Steve and Holtz nod enthusiastically, even as Sam shakes his head in warning towards his CO.

Captain Hill fixes the two blondes with a shrewd look. Sam gives a small sigh of resignation as Steve and Holtz are drawn in, anticipating whatever story the Captain will give them, “I grew up in the village and I’ve been at Lehigh off and on since I was a cadet, so if anyone that’s left knows about what’s happened here it would be me. Back in the sixties, we were in the midst of the Cold War, and Doctor Zola there was of the opinion that nuclear bombs were, how did my father put it? A ‘blunt force instrument wielded by simple minded puppets’. He was convinced that he had a more elegant solution. He talked the higher ups into believing that true patriotism was using one generation to save the next, that with his experiments he could build for them a secret army, invisible in plain sight. They built him a laboratory complete with a residential wing, talked vulnerable parents into giving up their children to become the nation’s tools.” Her hand briefly touches one of the teenagers in the photograph, “That’s them, the so-called super spies at 15 years old. No one knows exactly what kind of experiments Zola was performing, it was beyond Top Secret. All we know is that Azzano was expensive and Zola was not producing results fast enough. It was deemed a failure in 1975 and ordered shut down immediately. Zola went mad, locked himself in one of the inner labs and set the entire place on fire. I’m not even sure if they even bothered to try and save the place. Whatever was in there was some kind of toxic energy, no one wants to go near it.” She looks at Holtz and Steve in turn. “Sometimes the past is best left in the past.” It sounds like a command.

Steve, being Steve, does not let it go, “What happened to the kids?” Sam winces at Steve’s equally commanding tone.

Captain Hill just looks saddened, “They were relocated to the village, went to school with most of them. At first they fit in without problem. Making friends, joining the football team, the chess club, hanging out, dancing, just, you know, regular stuff. Like they had always been there. Then the accidents started to happen. It started with Jean.” she points to a long haired girl standing in the back row of the photograph. Holtz immediately recognizes her as the girl she had seen screaming. She tries to get Steve’s attention but his focus is on the Captain as she continues her story, “A boat accident on the lake. Calm day, she was a good swimmer, it was … strange, but you know, accidents happen. But when Scott died in a car accident a few months later, that’s when the rumours started. The kids from Azzano, they were unlucky, cursed. People started avoiding them. Time would pass and people would forget...until another accident, another Azzano kid, except they weren’t kids anymore. I can’t remember the last one, I think whoever was left just disappeared…”. 

The Captain, having drifted back to her past, suddenly snaps back to attention, “Like I said, best left to the past. I believe you have a class waiting for you Wilson.” She turns to Holtz and Steve briefly, “It was nice meeting you.” And with that she is gone.

Sam ushers his friends towards the front gate to sign them out, making them promise to go back home and stay out of trouble. They hastily assure him that no, they will not get arrested this time and that yes, their collective curiosity was sufficiently satisfied by Captain Hill’s history lesson so they will get back in the car and head back to South Humber. Immediately.

________________

Back in Ecto, Steve holds up his hands, his fingers crossed, “I am a lying liar and just lied to our very good friend Sam, straight to his face.”

Holtz holds up her hand, fingers also crossed, “We’re going to burn in hell. But first, let’s bust some ghosts.”

### Saturday Evening...

The sun is already setting by the time they get Ecto back in the hiding spot. Holtz, back to wearing her usual coveralls, opens the back of the car and starts rummaging around the clutter of equipment.

Steve stands on the road, practically jumping up and down in anticipation, “What are you looking for? I thought we’d go back to the house, take some shots for evidence, try not to get murdered by whatever is trying to kill us and, you know, expose the story.”

Holtzmann yanks on a large metal box until something gives and she stumbles backward. She sets the box down, which turns out to be covered in wires, switches and radiological hazard stickers. She detaches one side and holds up what looks like some kind of laser gun, “Photographs aren’t the kind of evidence I’m thinking of collecting.”

Steve is frozen in a moment of sheer confusion which quickly transforms to awe when Holtz displays the mysterious weapon, “Can I have one?”

Holtz sets the laser gun down and returns to rummaging through the equipment in the back of Ecto, “Sorry Rogers, that’s a proto-type particle thrower.” She pulls on an electrical cable and holds up a shoebox size metal box dangling from the end, “This is for you.”

Steve doesn’t bother to hide his disappointment that Holtz gets the laser gun and all he gets is a lousy box. At least it has a few LED’s on it. He takes it anyways and shoves it into his bag, “What is it anyways?”

Holtz grins ferally, “It’s a trap.”

________________

They make their way back through the village towards the big house as stealthily as possible, what with Holtz hefting a nuclear power source on her back. They pass down what appears to be a quiet, abandoned side lane with a single cottage mostly hidden from view by an overgrown garden. The front door is so shaded by the growth that they almost don’t see the man until they are practically standing right in front of him.

A voice comes out of the darkness stopping Steve and Holtz in their tracks, “You two again. Still gettin’ into trouble I see. Can’t leave well enough alone, eh?” From out of the shadows emerges the Gardner, Mr. Logan. He holds up a hand, placating, and says in a much more gentle voice, “Now, now you both look like deer caught in the headlamps, but I didn’t disrupt my evening here to chase you off.”

Steve takes a step closer as Holtz puts a cautious grip on his arm, “You aren’t? Why not?”

Mr. Logan gives a mirthless chuckle, “Didn’t you know curiosity killed the cat? I saw what happened to you two this morning up at the house. I told you that not much goes on in there without my knowin’ about it. And now it seems yer back for more. Well before you go, I think there’s someone you should meet.” He beckons them to follow him around the side of the house. Steve follows first, Holtz still hanging onto his arm in case she feels the need to grab him and run.

The wild garden in the front give way to a kind of order as the path widens and vines dotted with flowers creep along a stone wall in long swirls. Seemingly infinite tendrils spin off into what forms intricate designs encircling the entire back garden. Holtz is taken aback when she recognizes the pattern _\- Fractals... How? Why?_

“Because I find them beautiful, and I was rather good at maths in school.” Another man comes toward them in an electric chair. He is about the same age as Mr. Logan, but where the gardener is bearded and gruff, the newcomers face is smooth and refined.

Steve looks between the man in the chair and Holtz, “I missed something, didn’t I?”

Holtz ignores Steve and thinks _\- You read my mind, didn’t you?_

The man just smiles at her. Mr. Logan rolls his eyes, “Charles, these are the two I was telling you about. I just caught them on their way back to the house, and by the looks of them, they think they have a plan.”

At this, Charles frowns and looks at them both intently. Steve, incredibly irritable when he doesn’t know what’s going on, crosses his arms over his chest defiantly.

Charles hums to himself, “They already know about Azzano, Logan, but I think you figured that out already.” He smiles up at the gardener as Logan rests his hand fondly on Charles’ shoulder. He looks back to Steve and Holtz, immediately somber, “I am the last survivor of Zola’s Azzano children. As you can see, I did not escape from his experiments without a ...souvenir.” He gestures to the electric chair, “The mind requires quite a bit of power, did you know that?” Holtz nods as Steve only raises an eyebrow, starting to fit the pieces together. Charles continues, “There’s not much left for the rest of this old body.” He ignores Logan’s harrumph of protest, “But the only reason I am still here is because as soon as I realized what was happening to my brothers and sisters, that they were being hunted, I went to ground. Disappeared, with the help of this this old man.” Logan's ‘speak for yourself’ is again ignored, “I’ve been keeping an eye on the place, but I don’t dare step outside my garden.” He points decisively at the ground, emphasizing every word, “Here, I am the master.” Charles’ tone is adamant as he looks up and addresses the stars, “Do you hear me Zola!” At Charles’ raised voice Logan rushes over, putting a protective hand on his arm. Charles is oblivious as he continues to shout at the sky, “I am the one in control here!”

Logan gestures for Steve and Holtz to leave, “You best get going now, and I mean keep going.” Steve looks in alarm as the tendrils along the wall start to move, twisting and tightening against each other, making the walls grow denser with every exclamation from Charles at his unseen nemesis. Logan gestures more wildly now and Holtz pulls Steve back towards the front of the house. Logan growls, “Go home!” They start to run.

________________

They don’t stop running until they reach the end of the lane way and pop out onto one of the main roads towards the hotel. They have only a second to dive behind a hedge before Erin and Bucky walk right past them. Deep in conversation, they are too distracted to notice their best friends spying on them.

“So, I think I can get him alone tonight.” Erin giggles and Bucky claps his hands in satisfaction.

“Mission is in the bag. I’ll be seeing Diana before the final tomorrow. Hopefully everything will work out.”

“Oh, if I know you Barnes, she doesn’t stand a chance, lucky lady.”

Their voices fade as they drift towards the hotel.

Holtz looks forlornly at Steve as he sighs in resignation, “I don’t know about you, but I could use some cookies.”

________________

Holtzmann sits down heavily on the floor of the Bake Off Tent, a tray of misshapen palmiers in her lap. She doesn’t even bother to remove the proton pack as she leans back against one of the ovens, “I can’t believe I have personally witnessed psychic phenomena twice and lost my chance with my best friend, all in one day.”

Steve slumps across from her, grabs a cookie and shoves it in his mouth. He contemplates their situation until he is done chewing, “Two, if you count last night. Look, the only thing we know for sure is that there is a malevolent force in that house and there’s something we can do about it. Bucky and Erin?” he shrugs his shoulder, defeated, “We don’t really know anything until they tell us, I guess.”

“Yeah, I guess.” Holtz grabs another palmier and holds it up, “What are these supposed to look like? This one looks like Fred.”

Steve lets out a snort, “Well I don’t think they’re called ‘Chinchillas’. This batch look pretty consistent, like hearts.” _\- Probably Bucky’s -_ He wraps a pile of biscuits in a kitchen towel and shoves it in his bag, “Come on, we’ve got work to do.” He holds out a hand and hauls Holtz to her feet. She puts the empty baking tray in a sink _\- Let those scummy producers get the blame -_ and they sneak back out of the Tent.

### Saturday Night...

They make their way to the side door they had used that morning and find it is still unlocked. They step inside and Steve closes the door behind them, immediately plunging them into darkness. He grips Holtz’ trap to his chest, “I feel like we may not have thought everything through before coming here.”

Holtz rummages around the pockets of her overalls, “When did that ever stop you, Mighty Rogers? Here, take this.”

Steve takes the maglight out of Holtz’ hands and snaps it on, shining a light down the passageway, “Only Thor is allowed to call me that. You may call me Special Agent Dana Rogers, because I am living out my X-Files fantasies with this flashlight. It’s practically a nightstick! This was in your pants?”

“These overalls are my own design. I may or may not have taken a few ideas from Hermione and her talent for Undetectable Extension Charms.”

“So, you just sewed in extra-long pockets.”

“Yep. Hold up, I forgot something.” She turns her back to Steve and gestures over her shoulder to an illuminated switch with a NUCLEAR/OFF switch, “Could you flip this baby on for me please.”

Steve shines his light over the word “nuclear” and the radiological warning stickers around it, “I don’t want to. Ow!...fine.”

A high pitched whine followed by a constant low hum comes out of the proton pack. Holtz unholsters the particle thrower, “I call her Adele on account of her range.”

Just as Steve is about to let out a guffaw they hear a _CLICK_ from behind them.

Holtz points her particle thrower at the door they had just come through, “How much you wanna bet that our exit is now mysteriously locked and completely impenetrable?”

Steve starts heading down the passage deeper into the House, “C’mon. Let’s not keep the good doctor waiting.”

________________

They make their way upstairs, trying light switches along the way to no effect.

Holtz pats her pockets, “I just remembered, I didn’t bring extra batteries for the flashlight.”

Steve purses his lips, “Great. Let’s try the East side of the house this time.”

They cross the massive front entrance and turn down a previously unexplored hallway towards the far side of the house from Zola’s secret office.

Steve shines his light along the walls, “Wow. Burgundy and puce? I mean it’s, like, in every hallway in this house ... Huh.” He stops short and shines the light halfway down the hall where the wall has been blackened. As they get closer, it becomes obvious that the wall has been damaged by fire, the ragged edges of the plastered walls brittle and cracked, revealing the skeletal frame of the house. As Steve moves the light over the burned section the light disappears into the space beyond, through the wall to the room beyond.

Holtz moves in front of Steve into the beam from the flashlight, her particle thrower raised. “Point the light through here.”

Steve angles the light until it’s shining through the hole in the wall, “You’re blocking my view, Holtzy. Don’t keep me in suspense, what do you see?”

Holtz turns around, lowering the particle thrower, brow furrowed in confusion, “I thought we were on the other side of the house.”

Steve mirrors her expression, “Yeeeeah. What did you see?” He points the flashlight right at her and she squints.

“Geez, Rogers, don’t point that at my face. It’s was Zola’s secret office.”

Steve’s mind starts to race _\- How? Did we circle around the house? But we only made one turn off the main entrance -_ As he thinks about the impossibility of their position, the flashlight beam drifts beyond Holtz’ shoulder, illuminating a pale, round face with small beady eyes and wire rimmed glasses. The thinning hair is frayed and singed, the malevolent grin showing blackened, dripping teeth _-Zola! -_ “Holtz! Behind you!”

Zola whispers into Holtz’ ear, his voice but a rasp, dragging metal over concrete, “I think you will do nicely.”

Holtz startles and spins around, blasting the proton beam wildly. Zola’s jaw stretches open beyond its natural limits and Steve catches a glimpse of the fire licking up his throat from within. Zola jolts to the side to avoid the beam. Holtz struggles to control the power, wrestling with the barrel as she slashes the beam from side to side. Zola slides up the wall before letting out a screech that reverberates up their spines and zooming towards them. Steve doesn’t even have enough time to raise his arms in defence before Zola seemingly blasts right through them and disappears down the hallway and through the wall at the end. Steve puts a hand to his chest where his skin, his lungs feel as though they are on fire. The heat quickly dissipates and he reaches down for the flashlight where he’d dropped it. His hand comes away with some effort _\- What the…?? -_ Long, gooey strings join his hand to his body. He grabs the flashlight with his clean hand and looks at the mess on his middle, “Holtz, are you getting this? It’s some kind of...slime, I dunno. Holtz?”

At the silence he swings the light upwards and finds Holtz with her mouth shut tight and her eyes burning with excitement. The entire half of her face is covered in slime. She manages to speak out of the side of her mouth that was untouched, “Rovers, getha commaimer, I neetha shammel.”

Steve cringes _\- Ewwwwwwwww -_ He rustles around his bag for something, anything to clean this stuff off, and finds some wadded up napkins in a deep corner. He proceeds to wipe off Holtz’ face, “I have no idea what you just said.”

Holtz holsters the particle thrower and quickly grabs some plastic bags from one of her many pockets, “I said, get a container, I need a sample.”

Steve starts to scan the hall again, anticipating a return of Zola, or whatever it was that had slimed them. “You want a sample of the goo?”

Holtz tsks him, “Ectoplasm, Steve. You never listen. I told you all about it earlier.”

“I literally only hear ‘blah blah blah’ when you start in on your techno babble lectures.” He shrugs sheepishly, “Sorry.”

Suddenly the hall lights flicker and turn on. A soft whirring sound comes from around the corner at the far end of the hall, getting louder as something approaches. Steve and Holtz stand side by side, facing the oncoming danger, weapons raised.

A deep, gravelly voice from the other corridor complains, “We’ve already been down this bloody hallway. What is this shit? Is that...slime?”

As the whirring gets louder, from around the corner comes Charles in his electric chair, Logan close at his side. “It’s ectoplasm, dear, you know that.” They stop short when they see Steve and Holtz. Charles grins and grabs Logan's hand, “We’ve found them.”

________________

They make their way back to the main entrance, Holtz leading the way with her particle thrower raised. Logan insists on brings up the rear, letting out the occasional growl of annoyance. Steve tries the front door, but, as predicted, an invisible force prevents it from budging. They form a semi-circle, backs facing the front door, eyes wearily inspecting every corridor that branches off into the house.

Logan gestures to Holtz’ weapon, “What is that thing anyways? Sure as hell destroyed most of that hallway back there.”

Holtz checks the readings on the side of the power pack strapped to her back, “Her name is Adele, and she emits a beam of ectospectral electromagnetic radiation capable of containing cross-dimensional manifestations of ectoplasmic waveforms. That is, if I could control its vectors. Guess this is why Stark insists on a so-called ‘testing phase’.”

At Logan's creased brow, Charles clarifies, “It’s for catching ghosts. I presume Steven here has the containment unit?”

Holtz clarifies, “The trap. You should probably have it at the ready, Rogers. I have a feeling that Zola doesn’t like to tease his prey.”

Steve loops the cord around his arm and clips the switch to a belt loop on his jeans. He holds the trap in one hand while brandishing the maglight in the other. “At least the lights are back on.”

As if his words had been a magical incantation, they are once again plunged into darkness. The click of light switches being fruitlessly flicked on and off the only sound to accompany Logan's growl, “You just had to say it.”

Steve flicks on the flashlight, “I don’t remember inviting you along. Why are you two here anyways?”

Logan flicks on his own flashlight and hands it to Charles. The look on his face indicating that he has no real idea why they are there, he certainly wishes they weren’t.

Charles pats him on the leg affectionately, but addresses Holtz and Steve, “We came to help. The control I convinced myself that I had was an illusion. I am sick of being afraid of this monster, and when you two came along I saw a chance to end it. Once and for all.”

Steve realizes Charles’ plan at once, “You’re the bait.”

Charles nods in confirmation as Logan purses his lips in irritation, obviously not a fan of the plan. Charles pats the hand Logan rests on his his shoulder, “Zola had more than a hidden office in this house.”

It is Holtz’ turn to look back with realization, “He has a hidden lab here as well.” She looks back at Steve and shrugs her shoulders, “I mean, I would.”

Steve nods, unable to keep the excitement from coursing through his veins _\- This just gets better and better -_ “Sounds reasonable. You know, in a mad scientist kind of way.”

Charles point the flashlight down the centre passageway and whirrs ahead of the group, “Follow me.”

________________

There is, of course, a hidden panel at the back of a closet full of old rain coats, muddy boots and gardening equipment in various states of wear. As Logan clears out the junk he grumbles something about having kept it secret for decades. The back panel is large and swings to the side revealing the door to a freight elevator.

Steve looks skeptical, “Is this even going to work?”

Just then the door opens automatically and they all hesitate to get in. Charles leads the way again, his voice finally starting to show signs of fear, “He knows I’m here. This is his way of saying, ‘welcome home’.”

Logan climbs in last, “You know a cake would also get the message across, you creepy muthafucker.”

The ride down seems to Holtz to take hours. Erin's voice echoes through her mind _\- Did you check the power supply containment settings? You don’t want to have a meltdown. Did you inspect the o-rings? You know how they take ‘single point of failure’ to disastrous new levels. Did you eat enough? Holtz, your brain is the most energy hungry organ in your body and without it the mission has no hope of success! Remember, you can’t actually patch into the tesseract to run things -_ Holtz smiles fondly, “Yet.”

Logan narrows his eyes at her but the rest are too lost in their own thoughts to pay attention to her talking to herself. She reaches into her leg pocket and grabs a handful of protein bars, only slightly squished. Steve takes one, opens it with his teeth and stuffs the whole thing in his mouth. Logan and Charles politely decline.

For Steve’s part, he is having his own conversation with his best friend _\- This is just like the time when we went looking for the Walcek twins back in Brooklyn. You remember those meatheads, Stevie? They could dish it out but couldn’t take it. And don’t go rushing in swinging at whatever’s in front of you. Keep those hands up in front of your big nose, got it slugger? Now it’s up to you, you gotta get this crew outta here in one piece, you here me? And that includes you, Stevie. Check those corners! Check those corners! -_ Steve moves the maglight back and forth, scanning the elevator as they descend.

It finally comes to a halt and the doors slide open revealing an empty corridor, intermittently lit by flickering ceiling lamps. The walls are streaked with ectoplasmic goo. The older layers, dried and flaking, have turned an opaque putrid green.

Charles stop in front of a door covered in goo. He gestures down the corridor, “The lab is a series of interconnected rooms stretching under the lawn towards the river. The door at the end of the hall opens into another office connected to the main laboratory within.” He reaches for the door beside him but is stopped by Logan. He looks up at the gardener with a look of regret and whispers, “The only way this is going to work is if I go in alone. You can all all come in from the other side.”

Logan shakes his head in stubborn refusal, “We’ll go in together this way. The hotshots can take the long way.”

After a moment's hesitation Charles agrees. He takes a handkerchief from his breast pocket and reaches out to open the slime covered door. Logan looks back at Steve and Holtz and growls, “Don’t be late.” The door closes behind them and Steve and Holtz are alone once more.

They move cautiously, side by side, down the hall.

Steve laments using up his vinyl gloves that morning as he reaches out to the slime covered door handle _\- So gross! -_ He pushes the door open and Holtz aims the particle thrower at whatever may jump out at them. Steve shines the light around the room as they cautiously move inside. He closes the door behind them, “To save Zola the trouble.” he responds at Holtz’s questioning look.

The office is stuffed to bursting with piles of boxes, notebooks and loose papers scribbled with Zola’s writing. Everything is covered in ectoplasm. Holtz pries apart the pages of the nearest lab book, “Looks like Zola moved his stuff from Azzano into here. You think he planned this? Continue his work from beyond the grave?”

“But why kill the test subjects? An ‘if I can’t have them no one can’ sitch?” Steve starts moving around the stacks looking for the door to the main lab, suddenly anxious.

Holtz keeps looking at Zola’s notes as she follows Steve, “Maybe, or maybe he’s just an evil dickweed. ”

Steve puts a hand on the lab door handle, “Ready?”

Holtz raises the particle thrower, “Ready.”

They burst into the main laboratory. Steve shines the light back and forth revealing work benches covered in beakers and half empty jars of chemicals. Everything is still covered in the ectoplasmic goo.

Holtz stares into the darkness, concentrating, “Do you hear that?”

Steve cups his good ear towards the direction Holtz is looking in. He hears a faint whispering voice and moves towards it. All of a sudden, the cluttered workbenches give way to an open area. A streak of red stains the floor. Steve follows it with the beam, “Logan!” He rushes forward before Holtz can reach out and stop him. Logan is prone on the floor, unconscious, blood slowly dripping from a wound on his forehead. Steve grabs his wrist, “He still has a pulse.”

Holtz kneels down on the other side of Logan, grabbing a handkerchief from one of her pockets and pressing it to the wound. At the pressure, Logan begins to stir, moaning, “Charles.”

Steve lifts up the flashlight and scans the area around them. On the other side of the open area is Charles, sat in a monstrous chair that easily takes up half of the space. His wrists and chest are bound by thick metal restraints. A crown of electrodes and metal spikes adorns his head, each attached to long wires trailing off to an old computer bank behind him. Zola, pale and decrepit stands at his ear, whispering to him. Charles eyes are red-rimmed and wild, wet with unshed tears. Holtz jusps up and readies the particle thrower, but is stopped by Steve who reaches out and pushes her arm, “Wait! You’ll hit Charles.”

Though his head is restrained, Charles strains his eyes to look at them. He manages a weak, “Do it.”

Zola snaps his face towards them and lets out a monstrous roar, his mouth like blackened coal lit by the burning fire inside, “YOU WILL NOT STOP MY GREATEST ACHIEVEMENT!”

Steve squeezes Holtz’s arm briefly willing her to understand Wait She nods in agreement. Steve steps forward and to the side, “What, are you still trying to make the perfect super spy? Didn’t they tell you, the war is over.”

Zola’s laugh is like nails on a chalkboard, “There is always another war.” He turns away from Charles and floats toward Steve. His eyes start to glow from within, the fire trying to get out as he angers, “And my children are not spies, you visionless moron. You sound like those mindless bureaucrats who tried to stop me. They were soldiers! Elegant. Invisible. Deadly!”

Steve backs away and Zola follows him in his tirade, “The world did not deserve them, so I brought them here with me.”

From out of the walls emerge the Azzano children, young and stone faced,as they were when they were still being experimented on by their tormentor. Even as Zola swells with pride the pale, translucent faces look between Holtz and Steve, eyes pleading for help.

Steve stands his ground before Zola, “And Charles, are you going to bring him over too?”

Zola’s screeching laugh fills the room and Steve cringes despite himself, “No no no, Charles was always the strongest, always so defiant! I will finish what I started and set him loose on my enemies. Starting with you!”

Zola swells in size and rushes Steve, jaw distended and dripping, the fire inside forcing its way out. Steve drops the flashlight and readies the trap in one hand, release switch in the other, “Holtz, now!”

Holtz pushes down into the floor to steady herself and blasts the particle thrower in Zola’s direction, The beam snakes around his midsection and holds him in place as he strains against it trying to get to Steve. Steve backs away quickly as Zola’s form grows in size and starts thrashing, trying to break free from the particle beams grip. Holtz pulls back, tightening the stream, “Steve, I’ve got him! Throw the trap under him.”

Steve slides the metal trap along the floor and it stops directly under Zola’s struggling form _\- Yes! I knew intramural curling would come in handy someday -_ He smashes his hand down on the switch and immediately an intense white light emitted from the trap engulfs the mad scientist. Steve shuts his eyes against the glare and is about to cover his ears against Zola’s ungodly screeching when he hears Holtz yelling at him, “Close the trap! I can’t keep him much longer!” He smashes the switch once again and the light disappears, as if sucked into the small metal box, dragging Zola along with it.

For a full minute no one moves, everyone shell shocked, staring down at the smoking metal box in the middle of the room, happily blinking it’s green LED. All at once the lights come back up and everyone moves. Holtz and Steve throw their arms around eachother, jumping with joy. Logan limps over to Charles and forcefully rips off his restraints, lifting him up in his arms, clinging to eachother. The ghosts of the Azzano children seemingly morph into the forms they had when their lives were cut short by Zola, looking from one another in relief. They surround the group of the still living and Charles looks to each of them smiling. Holtz and Steve go to stand with Charles and Logan and Steve gives a little wave as the ghosts begin to fade. Holtz gives a two-fingered salute, “Catch you later!” Steve punches her in the arm and she amends, “Well, not literally.”

Steve throws some disapproving eyebrows her way and stomps over to the trap, picking it up by the cord and letting it dangle an arms length away, “Does Zola just, what, stay in here forever?”

The smile Holtz had been sporting ever since the trap closed successfully starts to fade, “Ah. Right.”

Steve side eyes her, “Holtzy, please tell me you have a plan because ecto-science is a bit beyond even my considerable strategic skills.”

She flips a dismissive hand at him, “Ha ha Rogers, of course I have a plan for permanent containment. We just have to get him back to the lab.”

Logan clears his throats in a none too subtle, “Ahem! I hate to break up your little confab, but can we get out of here?”

Charles, back in his own considerably more comfortable chair whirrs toward the back wall. “I suggest we take the secret exit. It leads to a large storm drain that empties by the river.” He looks back over his shoulder at Steve and Holtz, “We also insist that you come back with us to our house to refresh yourselves.”

Logan grumbles, “We do?”

“It’s the least we can do after saving the world. If I’m not mistaken we have a bit of that Victoria sponge Mrs. Storm next door made.”

Steve looks taken aback, “The world?”

Charles nods vigorously, “Oh yes, absolutely.” He turns and starts through the door towards their exit, “You have no idea what I’d have been capable of if Zola had been successful.”

Logan grimaces and disappears through the exit.

Steve looks to Holtz, brows raised, impressed with themselves. Holtz shrugs and grins back, “We just saved the world.”

High fives all around.

### Sunday...

They end up hanging out at Charles and Logan's place until after lunch. Unfortunately, they discover that not only is ectoplasm not water soluble, it actually seems to multiply when wet. Luckily, Holtz seems to have come prepared and manages to make a cleaning solution from baking soda, oatmeal and canned tomato juice. The subsequent showers are heavenly, almost as good as lying around the sun dappled living room while Logan grumbles away in the kitchen making pancakes. Steve finally realizes that they had better leave soon or they won't make it back home before Bucky and Erin. They grab their bags and Holtz shoulders the proton pack. Logan comes out of the kitchen and grumbles a thank you while handing over a pack of sandwiches for the road. 

Charles just looks intently at Holtz, smiling up at her and takes her hand _\- Thank you. You have an incredible mind and are already doing amazing things -_ He turns to Steve and shakes his hand, “Thanks to you two, I can finally go beyond these walls.” He turns to Logan, hopeful, “Perhaps even beyond this village.”

He doesn't spare a glance at the trap holding Zola, though Logan gives it the finger as Steve and Holtz take their leave.

High off of their experiences that night, they chatter nonstop as they walk through the village towards Ecto’s hiding spot. Holtz is giving a play by play of how the beam exactly trapped Zolas ghost when Steve notices that they’re just around the corner from Bucky and Erin's hotel. They throw themselves against the wall and slowly peer around the corner. A line of taxis stretch around the road from the front door of the hotel. Bucky, Erin, the other contestants and a few producers are standing together by the first taxi. Upon silent agreement, they decide to watch until everyone has gotten in their taxis and left.

Steve turns to Holtz, incredulous, “Did you just see what I just saw?”

## Part 4: Meanwhile in the Tent ...

#### WARNINGS:

Dream/flashback of combat, guns, shooting, people getting shot and killed.  
Bucky is a swear bad.

### The Road to the Bake Off ...

Bucky drums the fingers of his prosthetic on the table between he and Erin. His long, dark hair hangs over his eyes, shielding him from the summer sun, still unapologetically high in the sky. He looks down and grins to himself, the pink middle finger of his hand is growing on him.

Erin frowns, expression otherwise hidden behind her sunglasses. She is slouched across from him, her hands wrapped around an aspirin bottle. “You are way too happy for the hangover train, Barnes.”

Bucky just chuckles, “Welcome to life on the front, Gilbert.”

Erin knocks over the water bottles littering the table, looking for one that isn’t empty, “The front lines of what, this baking competition? I don’t know if I have the strength to go to war with these underhanded, two-faced, power hungry …” She pops another aspirin in her mouth and swallows it with what is left of the water, “.... back-stabbing bakers. I mean how could Nadia have messed up that challah last week?” She settles back into her seat and rubs her temples. “There’s something going on here, Barnes. I just wish I could clear the fog from my brain and figure it out.”

Bucky grabs a bottle cap and neatly rolls it from finger to finger of his flesh hand. “So you’ve noticed it too.” He switches the cap to his prosthetic hand. The movements aren’t as smooth but he needs to practice, especially with a part replacement so close to competition time.

Erin reaches into her bag and pulls out a black covered lab book. On the cover is written ‘Quantum Formulations for Ectothereal interplanar transference’. At Bucky’s raised eyebrow she shows him the first few pages, covered in complicated mathematical equations. “It’s just a cover. You’d be amazed at how most people would dismiss pages and pages of math.” She smirks to herself _\- More like avert their eyes in fear._

Bucky is impressed, “To hide what, exactly?”

Erin turns a page and the equations give way to pages and pages of handwritten notes. “I’ve been documenting the competition. Or rather, our competitors.” She holds up a finger, “For example, at the start of the competition we find out that Jonathan has won his local village competition for the past five years. And bakes for fundraising campaigns for his kid’s school.” Bucky is nodding in agreement, but his eyes are saying so what? “Well, just out of curiosity, I looked at the school’s webpage. They raised enough money over the past few years not only for a new roof, but a new gym as well. He is mentioned by name in a special thanks.”

“Hm, must be a pretty good baker then.” Erin is waiting for him to put the pieces in place. It’s one of the things that Bucky appreciates about their friendship. So many people assume because he was a soldier that he didn’t have a mind of his own, that he was stupid. It came in handy to avoid all the irritating, stuffed up assholes at the university. But Erin had never treated him that way, never spelled things out for him like he was an idiot. He suspects Holtz and Steve probably had something to do with that, but he didn’t mind. It felt good to have people who really knew him, to have a unit. He thinks back to last week and it clicks, “How does a baker like that, who should be able to bake in high quantities, accidentally drop not one, but two bread doughs on the floor. Not to mention constantly misplacing equipment.”

Erin consults her notes, “And last week he was beside Nadia. She leant him her baking equipment and even split her dough with him. So she only had half a batch of bread at the end.” She looks up eyes narrowed, “Remember at the time everyone felt so bad for him and Nadia was the hero of the morning.”

“But then he slaughtered us all in the technical.” Bucky frowns, expression darkening, “What a heartwarming comeback. Nadia never bounced back.”

Erin sighs, “I can see you being hard on yourself, Barnes. You’re not the only one who didn’t think twice about what happened. Don’t forget we were in the middle of a competition.”

Bucky is still mad at himself for missing what now seems so obvious. He remembers something else, “Gary was paying you quite a bit of attention last week as well.”

It’s Erin’s turn to frown. She involuntarily shudders as she thinks back to Gary’s unwanted attention _\- Ugh what a creep -_ “It was definitely distracting.” She doesn't know what to do in those situations. She’s had colleagues being forward before, assuming they could put a hand on her. All the while they’d be talking about themselves, or talking down to her. She even had the chair of the department call her ‘Hon’. Gods she hated that, but in the moment it was like being a deer caught in headlights. The default is to be polite, always. It’s only in retrospect that she wishes she could channel Holtz’s ability to immediately cut that crap out by saying something perfectly awkward, ‘Back off, man. I’m a scientist’. The offender would dismiss her as weird and leave her alone. Steve would just call that person out right there with his ‘Did you just call me what I think you called me? How dare you talk down to me!’ demeanor. It’s all in the eyebrows. She couldn’t do that as much as she couldn’t keep up a constant wall made from the promise of a horrible, agonizing death the way Barnes could.

Bucky can see her doubting herself, “It’s nothing you do or don’t do, Gilbert.”

Erin takes a deep breath, “I know. Intellectually.” Her fist clenches, “I just wish I could fight back.”

Bucky nods, he knows what it feels like to be powerless _\- What would Stevie do? He wouldn’t let this kind of shit happen to his friends. He wouldn’t let it happen to his enemies, that soft hearted little punk. He’d come up with a plan -_ “You are going to fight back. We both are. These fuckers think they are so smart, that there will be no consequence. But we’re going to use their arrogance against them. ”

Erin relaxes her fist. “Sounds like you have a plan, Barnes.” She flips her notebook open to a clean page and grabs her pen. She scribbles Operation Pink Fist across the top.

“It’s fuschia.” Bucky grumps.

________________

They spend the rest of the train ride planning how they should approach this. There were only five contestants left and the next most vulnerable was Diana Prince. Diana was friendly and kind hearted almost to a fault. She was also an incredibly efficient baker, always with some extra time at the end to help the other contestants put their bakes on cooling trays or set up their displays.

As they deboard the train and head towards the taxi stand, Erin tucks her notebook safely in her shoulder bag. “Let’s see how Jonathan and Gary act towards Diana tonight at dinner. It might be a clue if they decide to target her this week. You know you’re going to have to actually talk to the other contestants this weekend if this is going to work.” 

Bucky grimaces but nods tersely in agreement. He holds the door to the taxi open so Erin can get in, “Let’s go bake some fuckin’ biscuits.”

________________

Once in the hotel, they check in and hand their phones over to one of the producers. They decide to head up to their rooms to rest before dinner. Before Erin opens her door she looks pointedly at Barnes, “See you downstairs at seven.”

Bucky just grunts in response and disappears into his room _\- I’ll take that as an affirmative -_ Erin slips inside and her lingering hangover immediately reacts to the brightness of the room. Before closing the curtains against the evening sun, she notices that her room is on the other side of the hotel than the road. The view faces towards the Bake Off and the big house beyond _\- Nice -_ She slides her suitcase under the bed and flops down on top of the duvet. She runs through her planned bakes for the weekend. The threat of impending panic is burning off any residual calm in her system. The old doubts start to push their way into her consciousness - what if she fucks up? What if she overbakes or under proofs? Holtzmann speaks to her in her head, “Do not forget that the people around you have no idea what the spring theory characterization of the quantum singularity at the centre of our galaxy is, and that is much more pathetic than not knowing how to deep fry a zeppole.” She wonders what Holtz is doing now _\- Probably in the lab -_ She smiles to herself, imagining Holtz bent over her lab bench, working away on some Stark project, shaded goggles permanently pulled down over her eyes after the night they had after the premiere _\- She’s probably ordering around her new assistant, Kevin, or poor Steve. They had better make sure she eats and takes a break once in awhile. At least Patty and Abby will call her tomorrow night to make sure she isn’t losing her mind without anyone to talk to who understands general relativity. I’m going to have to have a talk with Kevin on Monday -_ Her mind drifts into a restless sleep as she makes an endless list of instructions for Holtz’s assistant.

As soon as Bucky gets in his room he locks the door and tosses his duffel on the bed. He goes into the bathroom and starts looking through all the drawers and cupboards for supplies. He goes for the closet next. Five minutes later he has a disparate collection of objects spread out on the bed: toilet rolls, cotton swabs, floss, a wire hanger and talc. He takes the cardboard out of the toilet rolls and starts to bend them into spear-shapes. The points are surprisingly sharp, a trick that Dernier had taught him back when he had been on operations overseas. He bends the hanger into a bow and hooks one end of the floss to the makeshift trigger. He strings the rest of the floss across the base of the door and dusts it with talc. He wipes the floor clean of the residual mess and puts the toilet paper back in the bathroom. He unzips his duffel and pulls stuff out until he finds the circuit with power pack dangling by a set of wires. Again, a trick from Dernier to wire up a conducting door handle or window latch. The door is covered so he wires up the window and switches on the amplifier. He looks at his watch _\- 10 minutes. Cut it down to 8 next time Barnes -_ There’s a couple of hours until dinner, plenty of time to lie on the bed and stare at the ceiling. He flops down on the covers and pulls over his duffel. He pushes around his clothes until he finds the photo. He rolls over on his side and sets it against the lamp. It’s a picture from when he and Steve were just 18 years old, a lifetime ago. He’s brought this photo with him on every operation, every base he’s been stationed at, every hospital and doctor’s office. He looks at Steve’s smiling face and smiles to himself _\- Punk hasn’t changed a bit -_ His gaze shifts to his younger self and his face goes blank, eyes tuned to stone, unable to look away. He stares at that asshole with a toothy smile on his jerk face and all his limbs attached and tries to remember what it was like to be him.

________________

By seven o’clock, Erin and Bucky emerge from their rooms. They acknowledge with a mutual shrug that they both look like they should sleep for a week _\- Eh, what can you do. We both signed up for this hell and now we have some detective shit to take care of -_ They trudge down the hallway as though being dragged by an invisible hand.

Gary is loitering around the hotel lobby, no doubt pretending to be engrossed in his cell phone. The producer next to him taps her foot impatiently waiting for him to hand it over so she can get on with her job wrangling the other contestants. He looks up when Bucky and Erin reach the lobby and hands over his phone without even looking at the producer. He tries not to look disappointed at Bucky’s appearance and gives him a sloppy salute, “Hey, Killer. Didn’t expect to see you for dinner tonight. First time for everything, eh?”

Erin strains the muscles in her face suppressing her eyeroll. Bucky’s fists are clenched at his sides and he forces himself to speak through clenched teeth, “I thought it was time to get to know my competitors, before you become casualties.”

Gary ignores the implied threat in Bucky’s tone and moves to Erin’s side, a bit too close for comfort. “Well, Jon and Di have already headed out to that Italian place so we might as well go.”

They walk through the village towards the restaurant and immediately Gary starts bragging about his baking prowess. It’s all Bucky can do to not lose it on this _arrogant sonnofabitch fuuuuuuuuck! Arrgghhhh!!!! Okay breathe Barnes, who gives a shit if this fuckwad is talking out his ass. Stay on mission. Okay think of something calm, just sit, breathe -_ Bucky takes his calmest memory post accident, the time he let Steve talk him into painting on him for a living art demonstration _\- Think of that single point of contact, the brush as it glides down your arm, Stevie holding your wrist as he turns your body into art, not a machine trained to hurt and maim, but something good, something light -_ When he opens his eyes Erin is looking at him, eyebrow raised in question. He gives a quick nod _\- I’m OK -_ and opens the door to the restaurant. Whatever calm he felt is blown away at Erin’s awkward grimace as she walks through the door. He looks down and sees Gary’s touch on her back and suddenly the want to crunch some bones almost overwhelms him _\- What would Stevie do? Nope, he would punch this joker in the nose. Very counter mission. What would Holtz do? She would accidentally shock this asshole with her sonic screwdriver. Also counter mission. Fuck, what would Bucky do? He would charm himself through this. Turn it on, Barnes -_ He doesn’t know what he says, it’s probably pretty far from suave, but he is proud of himself that it doesn’t result in blood spray on the walls.

________________

Dinner goes as well as can be expected. Everyone is surprised that Bucky has joined them, as he would usually keep to himself during the competition. He is saved from having to explain himself by Diana getting emotional about there being so few of them left now.

¨No, but it is so good that you should be with us now Bucky. There are so few of us left. We really need to stick together to help eachother through the rest of the competition.¨

Jonathan gives a self deprecating smile, ¨I know I for one could use all the help I can get.¨ He looks to Diana with wide, puppy dog eyes. Erin has to physically stop herself from reaching into her bag to grab her notebook and make observations supporting their hypothesis that Jonathan is a lying liar. She kicks Bucky under the table and he releases the death grip he has on his pint glass before it shatters.

Diana takes Jonathan's hand and looks at him sincerely, “You are a good baker, Jonathan.”

Erin notes Jonathan's eyes darting to Gary before giving Diana a watery smile _\- Oh, he’s good -_ Gary tries to hide the smug look on his face by taking a sip from his wine.

Bucky stares at Gary, expression blank. Without looking away, he addresses the group, “I’m with Diana on this one. It was a pretty common thing we used to say in my unit, ‘never leave a friend behind’.” He breaks out into a toothy grin that makes Gary flinch, “Of course, we also used to say ‘in for a kneecap, in for a headshot’. Taking out a target wasn’t exactly optional.”

Erin was in the middle of taking a sip from her glass and it practically comes out her nose with a snort of laughter. Diana is also laughing and starts in on a story on how her unit in the Israeli army had a similar saying. Jonathan gives a token laugh as his eyes dart nervously between Gary and Bucky. Gary finishes his wine and looks anywhere but at Bucky.

Bucky smirks internally _\- Gotcha -_ as he turns to Diana and engages in her story from her warrior days.

________________

The walk back to the hotel is dominated by a discussion between Diana, Jonathan and Gary as they try to guess what the next day’s technical challenge will be. Bucky and Erin hang back, exhausted from the trip and the evening’s social interaction.

For his part, Bucky is way beyond his limit of playing his charming ‘old self’ and goes to his room without another word. Once inside he stands at the door and looks around. Everything seems to be exactly how he left it. And yet something is off. He takes a deep breath and immediately thinks of Steve _\- I must be losing it -_ He goes to the bathroom to brush his teeth and tries to keep his mind blank. By the bed he drops his jeans to the floor followed by his t-shirt. Of all of the things he misses about being in the army, having to keep his kit tidy wasn’t one of them. He takes another deep breath, closes his eyes and pretends he is home.

________________

Erin makes up for Bucky’s abrupt departure by joining in the _\- completely useless! -_ speculation about the next day’s competition. Gary walks her to her room, despite his own being on the next level. She opens her door and pauses. Unable to help herself she turns to him and says in a speculative tone, “You know, I think Diana is going to make it all the way to the final and win this thing. She’s just so good.”

Gary just smiles and moves in a bit closer, “Yeah, she’s good. But this is a competition, Erin. Anything can happen.”

Erin gives an overly bright smile back _\- What a dick -_ “I guess you’re right.” Without another word, she gets into her room and locks the door behind her. She sits on the bed and lays her pen and notebook in front of her. Reaching under the bed she drags out her suitcase and unzips it, taking out her stuffed rabbit. She gives it a quick squeeze and places it on one of the pillows. “Now, Dr. Snuggles, I think we can be pretty sure who’s the target this week.”

### The Signature Bake...

In the morning the contestants barely have a few minutes to eat their breakfast before they are whisked off to the set of the Bake Off. Erin and Bucky try to have a conversation with their eyes. It doesn’t work very well and they finally give up when Diana asks if Erin is feeling all right.

In the Tent, they are shown to their benches. Unfortunately, Bucky and Erin are at the front. They look across at eachother and grimace, it’s going to take a lot of finagling to keep an eye on the bakers behind them. Jonathan and Diana are in the middle and Gary alone at the back.

The hosts, Mel and Sue, come in and upon sensing the tense atmosphere immediately start cracking jokes. Sue takes particular delight in the challenge of getting Bucky to show any reaction at all to her innuendo. He actually finds her attention hilarious, but more hilarious is her own reaction to his expressionless demeanour _\- I should check to see if I can get some outtakes to show Stevie._

For her part, Mel will come to Erin every week trying to impress her by talking about some obscure physics discovery. She seems to enjoy telling the camera that she has yet to stump the Doc. Erin personally delights in starting every response with, “Well, actually…” and ending with, “...but that’s just off the top of my head.”

All too soon, filming starts. The judges come in and officially welcome everyone to Biscuit Week. The first challenge is the signature bake: two batches of sweet or savoury biscuits, all identical and all delicious.

Sue’s call of, “Baaake!” is like an exotic bird call. Their Pavlovian conditioning takes over and there’s a mad rush to collect ingredients and equipment.

When Jonathan stage whispers across the Tent, “Diana! Have you seen the kosher salt?” Bucky turns around and passes over his own. He delights in Jonathan’s disappointed thanks. When Gary ambles over to Diana's bench under the pretence of watching her ‘flawless technique’, Erin turns around and claims that she too would like to bear witness. Gary looks irritated at first but is quick to smile.

________________

By the 45 minute mark, Bucky and Erin’s bakes are in the oven. Gary is busy telling jokes to Mel and Sue at the front of the Tent. They stand at the back of the tent, watching as Diana helps Jonathan proportion his batter on his trays.

Erin takes a sip from her cup of tea, “That guy is a real piece of work.”

Bucky hums in agreement and takes a bite from his plum. They watch as one of Diana’s timers goes off and she rushes over to her own bench to pull out her bakes. At the same time, Gary takes his leave of the hosts and heads back to his bench passing close to Diana.

Erin grabs Bucky’s plum out of his hand and hisses, “Go!”

Bucky rushes over to Diana’s bench just as Gary ‘accidentally’ hits one of her trays with his hip. Bucky manages to grab it with his prosthetic hand and places the hot tray carefully on an empty spot on Erin’s bench.

Gary purses his lips in irritation which quickly morphs into concern, “Watch it there, Buddy, those are hot.”

Diana looks up in alarm after setting out two more of her trays to cool, “Bucky!”

Bucky holds up his hand and puts on his most charming, most Bucky-ish smile, “No worries, it’s a Stark Industries heat proof malleable ceramic. But that’s all I can tell you, or I’d have to kill you.” Diana bursts out laughing and thanks him for his help. Bucky laughs along but doesn’t look away from Gary until the other man moves away to his own bench. He still has a few minutes before he’s going to check on his own bakes, so he helps Diana arrange her trays. She asks about the pink finger and he tells her the story. Erin comes back to check on her bakes and adds a few comments about Bucky’s propensity for dramatic hair flips, which he vehemently denies. Soon everyone is taking out their bakes and host Mel sounds the warning bell, “5 minutes left everyone!” Everyone goes back to their own world, frantically arranging in a last ditch effort to impress the judges.

________________

The judging starts with Bucky’s plum jam sandwich cookies. His rigid posture is the only sign that he is nervous about the result. He looks over at Erin who mouths the words At ease, soldier! He can’t help but give a little smirk and relax his stance a bit. He tenses up again at Paul’s begrudging, “It’s okay.” Mary’s enthusiastic munching softens him up again. He has to admit to himself that her comment that he should work on making every biscuit being identical in size and shape is fair. Giving Paul's hand a good smack with the lifter when he tries to sneak off with a pile of biscuits is cathartic to say the least.

Next up is Erin, who hides her frazzled nerves behind a bright but tight lipped smile. While Mary loves her homemade take on BBQ Pringles, baked with a potato flour base, Paul complains that they are too spicy. As the judges move away, Erin's smile begins to falter and her hands start to shake as she fiddles with her display. Bucky comes to stand beside her. He snags a chip and pops it into his mouth whole. Talking around chewing he keeps his voice low, "Jesus Christ, Erin, these are amazing. That fuckwit doesn't know what he's talking about. 'Too much fuckin' spice'. Dickweed has the palate of a newborn."

Erin's expression and hands steady. She looks over at Bucky, silently thanking him, though she would walk over hot lava before ever saying it out loud, "Ew. Don't talk while you're chewing. You grow up in a barn, Barnes?"

Bucky just pops another handful of chips in his mouth and gives a toothy grin while bits of crumb land on his shirt. Thoroughly grossed out, Erin grimaces and pushes Bucky back to his bench.

The rest of the contestants are judged. Paul is very disappointed in the singed edges of Gary’s cheddar bites while Mary lavishes praise on Jonathan’s water biscuits with cracked black pepper. Diana’s crackers have been executed perfectly but lack flavour according to Paul, who is all but immune to her radiant smile.

When all is said and done, the bakers head outside for lunch, their one-on-one interviews and to fret about the results.

________________

Erin is the first to be taken away for an interview. The rest all sit around the picnic table and try to enjoy the mac and cheese. As luck would have it, not only is it tasteless, they are all slowly melting into puddles in the sweltering heat. Bucky stands up with his plate in hand and starts to move towards the trees. Against every instinct in his body he looks over his shoulder and offers, “Come on. Let’s sit in the shade.” They follow after him with a chorus of Great idea, Sarge and I was just about to do the same, Sarge. He ignores them all equally and takes a seat at the base of an old oak tree so he can lean back against the trunk and pretend to nap while listening to the chatter.

Erin squints her eyes and fidgets with her hair. The producer has her standing with a hedgerow in the background, facing the sun. The camera man gives her a thumbs up and she puts her hands down to her sides, then her pockets, then folded in front of her.

The producer starts in with the questions, “So, how do you feel?”

Erin sighs and looks longingly at the group sitting in the shade, “I feel like the photodistintegration of silicon during a runaway nucleosynthesis that will result in a cerebral supernova.” At the confused looks she clarifies, “It’s really hot and I think I’m getting a headache.”

### The Technical...

**Hardtack.**

The contestants all look at eachother in confusion. No one really knows what it is. The only clue from Paul was, “Bon Voyage!” before they vacated the Tent and left the bakers with their pared down instructions for the technical challenge.

Jonathan reads out the sheet in front of him, “Flour, salt, water. Mix ingredients together. Shape and bake.”

Gary throws the paper down on his bench, “This is a new low.”

“Come on guys,” Diana tries valiantly to rally the group, “Someone must have heard of heard of hardtack. Mel, Sue, “ She gives them a huge smile as she opens her arms and beckons them to her. Sue claims that they are powerless against her charm and the hosts are swallowed in her embrace. Sadly, they either know nothing or say nothing about the challenge.

Bucky holds up part of the equipment, a long, steel nail. “I guess I’m gonna nail it.”

Erin and Diana start giggling which only spirals out of control at Bucky’s annoyance.

Sue claps her hands to get their attention, “You only have ninety minus two minutes for this challenge bakers!”

At the signal, everyone starts measuring ingredients.

Bucky starts filling up the large bowl in front of him with flour until it’s about half way through. He adds a few big pinches of salt and stirs it around to combine with the flour. He grabs a large liquid measure and fills it up with water. As he pours the water in with his left hand, he mixes the dough with his right. He suddenly notices that the only sound in the tent is the squelch of the wet dough as he kneads it lightly. He looks up and sees that everyone is looking at him. He deadpans, “I have no idea what I’m doing.” Seems to be enough to get the other bakers to start experimenting.

Erin shrugs and carefully measures out six cups of flour and a teaspoon of salt. She puts the bowl next to the sink and swivels the tap over the mound of flour. She readies her wooden spoon and opens the tap slowly. Nothing comes out so she keeps opening it. Still nothing. She opens and closes it and swears under her breath _\- Why is there no water? Where’s my water? This can’t be happening! -_ Her panic must be palpable because the hosts close in on her, checking the tap. Diana tries to get Erin to use hers _\- So logical, I knew I liked her. Okay okay okay -_ Just as Erin is about to pick up the massive bowl of flour, a gurgle can be heard from the sink pipe. Mel slams open the tap and a blast of water comes shooting out under tremendous pressure. It slams into the pile of flour like the meteor that killed the dinosaurs, producing a wheat tsunami that explodes out of the bowl. No one within the blast radius could be saved. Mel, Sue and Erin are absolutely covered in wet flour. 

Bucky throws himself at the tap to close it, practically breaking it right off. Diana runs over with a handful of towels and starts to wipe off the apologetic Mel and hysterical Sue. Bucky grabs one of the towels and starts wiping off Erin’s face.

Erin spits out a bit of flour so she can speak, "That stuff went everywhere, in every crack.”

Bucky grimaces but is visibly holding in his laughter. She goes to swat him but he ducks away. She admonishes him while trying to keep in her own reaction to either laugh or cry, “It’s not funny Barnes!”. She stands frozen, holding her arms away from her body as he starts brushing the flour off her back and shoulders. The flour has fallen down on her chest and into her open shirt - This is so uncomfortable….oh shit, the camera! 

Just as she starts to panic about being covered in flour during a baking competition being aired across the world, Gary materializes right in front of her. He’s holding a towel and starts going for her chest, “Here, let me get that, hon.” 

She just about decks him right there, but Bucky’s hand is lighting fast on her arm. She snatches the towel and smiles sweetly, “Thanks, but I think I can get the rest.”

She turns away from Gary and looks to Bucky who’s cool gaze mirrors her own _\- Soon_.

________________

A few minutes later, the casualties of the flour incident are cleaned up as much as possible. The hosts hunt down more flour for Erin to keep going. Everyone is back in the zone. No one knows exactly what shape hardtack should be, the only thing they can agree upon is that the end product should probably be hard. Bucky cuts his dough into large triangles and punctures them several times with the nail before sliding them on a baking sheet and throwing them in the oven. Erin has chosen long rectangles with a line of holes down the middle. She fusses with the oven temperature but settles on Bucky’s temperature plus five degrees, just in case. Both Diana and Jonathan have gone for square shaped biscuits, though Diana’s are significantly smaller. While Jonathan goes for a random piercing pattern, Diana’s is more ordered. Gary cuts his in a circle and decides that the best way to make the end product hard would be to fry them. He finds a pan and hunts down some oil, all the while rebutting Sue’s almost constant, “Are you sure?”

________________

When the time is up, just about every baker is rushing to get their hardtack on a plate and put it on the gingham covered table at the front of the Tent. Erin sits at the end of the row of stools. Gary starts to sit next to her but moves over when Bucky stands obstinately in front of him. Bucky crosses his arms over his chest and sits up tall as Erin still tries to get hardened flour out of her hair. The judges come into the tent each holding a pint of ale.

At the sight of the beer Jonathan whines, “No fair!”

Paul just looks up at the bakers, eyes gleaming, and raises his glass. “If you’ve done your work properly then we’re going to need this.”

Mary takes a gulp from her glass and dismisses Paul’s incredulous stare with a shrug.

Paul goes on to explain that hardtack is an ancient way to make a cheap and long-lasting foodstuff, useful for long voyages by land or sea. As the name suggests, it is “ very, very hard.”

The judges go on to test the hardness of each bake. One has an uneven shape, another an uneven bake. One is too soft and another is so hard that no amount of soaking it in the ale will make it edible. Paul raises his eyebrows at the brittle fried offering and explains that while there is a version of hardtack that is fried, the ingredients would include some butter or shortening. Gary comes in last, then Bucky and Diana. The judges explain that while the last two hardtack were what they were looking for, Jonathans had the more traditional shape and so he wins the technical. Erin would normally rejoice at being second in the technical, but she is too busy watching Jonathan act perfectly shocked. He accepts a hug from Diana and congratulations from the hosts, all the while repeating, “I can’t believe it. I just can’t believe it.”

Bucky and Erin look at eachother and roll their eyes. However, the baking intrigue is temporarily forgotten when Sue comes back in the tent laden with trays covered in pints of ale for all.

### Saturday Night...

Dinner that night is a celebratory affair under the auspices of Jonathans victory in the technical challenge. Erin leaves them to their drink, but relents and waits for Bucky after his pleading look of don’t leave me alone with these people! She claims she can still feel the flour in every crevice, which she wishes were a lie but is actually extremely uncomfortable. They walk back to the hotel, discussing possible plans to beat Jonathan and Gary at their own game. In the end they call it a night, exhausted from the day's excitement. She rushes into the shower as soon as she gets back to her room. It takes a good thirty minutes to get the last of the caked on hardtack off of her body, all the while crafting the story she will tell her best friend when she gets home _\- The laws of physics do not apply in the Tent, such is the collective psychic power of many a hopeless baker. The fabric of space and time itself has been altered by the field of massive desperation. In other words, it’s totally not my fault! -_ She can see Holtz’s dimpled cheeks and hear the snort she’d give at Erin’s dramatics, undoubtedly calling her the Bakeoff Martyr.  
Exhausted, she wraps a towel around her hair and flops onto her bed. She manages to turn off the lights, grabs Dr. Snuggles and falls into a restless sleep.

Erin looks in the mirror and straightens her bow tie. It is a plain black bow, unlike her usual patterned ones, in order to mark the seriousness of the occasion. It is, after all, the launch of her and Abby’s book detailing their experience and research into the paranormal. She walks into the lobby of the university library. A banner reading Ghosts from Our Past: Both Literally and Figuratively : the Study of the Paranormal greets her. She almost walks into a lifesize cardboard cutout of herself from the book cover photoshoot. An arm around her waist catches her at the last second and she twirls around into Holtzmann’s arm. She is holding a drink in her free hand and hands it to Erin, “Hey there, roomie. Wouldn’t want to violate the Pauli exclusion principle, having two Gilberts in the same place at the same time.” Erin is too nervous to laugh but gives Holtz an appreciative squeeze before letting go and taking a swig of her drink. She looks around the room and sees all of her colleagues from the physics department. At first she is pleased that they’re all reading a copy of the book, but then the laughter begins. At first it’s just a light chuckle from Dr. Fillmore. But then Phil from Condensed Matter lets out a guffaw as he points out a page to his team of grad students. Erin looks back but Holtz is gone. She looks around the room but can’t find Abby or Patty anywhere either. She shrinks in on herself as the laughing gets louder. She finds herself standing in front of the Dean of the college. He looks down at her, disappointment written all over his face. It quickly turns to anger as he shoves the book into her hands and yells, “This isn’t scholarly! It’s pseudo-science! GHOST GIRL!”

Erin’s eyes snap open. Her breaths come heavy and fast as she stares into the darkness of her room, slowly coming back to herself. She thinks back to the dream, of feeling ridiculed, and furiously wipes a tear from her eye. She rolls over and clicks on the bedside lamp. Dr. Snuggles looks back at her from its position on the pillow. She grabs it and squeezes tight _\- I am a scientist. The ghost I saw ... it was real, and those doubters are the sad, ignorant ones -_ She ruffles the bunny’s yellow hair, “Holtzy believes me. She always believed.”  
Fully awake now, she sits up and reaches over for her shoulder bag where she had dropped it after dinner. She reaches in and rummages around for her notebook, deciding to add to her notes on Jonathan and Gary. If she could aggregate the evidence, then maybe one of the producers would take it seriously and disqualify them. She sits up and pulls her bag onto her lap, emptying its contents over the bed. The notebook is nowhere to be found.

________________

The unnatural orange haze presses in around his position atop a small rise in the sand. The smoke from the assault drifts across the expanse of sand on the outskirts of town, lit up by the periodic rocket fire and the occasional burst of assault rifles. The haze is pushed on by a breeze that would be pleasant if the insurgents would just fuck off and let everyone else enjoy their fucking day. But no, they had had to stage what was essentially a public lynching of a student protest group despite or, who knows, maybe even because of the encroaching military presence of America Fuck Yeah! and allies. And now here was Bucky, settled into the sandy knoll just outside the main fight, belly pressed into the ground, body reverberating with the rhythmic thump thump thump of the heavy artillery tossing hellfire all over the insurgents and whatever else may be in the way _\- Like an entire town complete with kids playing soccer in the side streets just this morning jeezus fuckin’ christ -_ Bucky slowly scans the tops of the single story buildings facing his position as the rest of his unit make their way into the town.  
_thump thump thump_  
A dark shadow materializes beside a laundry line on the top of a house a few hundred meters from his unit. The shadow settles what appears to be a rocket launcher on its shoulder. The glow from another blast lights up the faded Stark Industries corporate logo. The launcher must hail from back when S.I. were a weapons developer. Used prolifically during Desert Storm, they’ve been collected and traded ever since _\- Yep, this makes thirteen and ain’t I just a lucky bastard -_ Bucky can barely distinguish his heartbeat from the thump thump thump rising through the earth just to make his life just that much more difficult. He waits a beat, exhales.  
_CRACK_  
The shadow falls. Bucky resumes scanning the buildings. His team has slipped into an alley, the probable location of insurgent HQ their destination. The occasional chatter through his earpiece tells him they have reached their target with little opposition _\- You’re fuckin’ welcome -_ he thinks vaguely as he considers changing position to get some higher ground.  
_thump thump thump_  
His earpiece suddenly bursts with a “FUCK.” Bucky winces as Dum Dum’s voice, never particularly subtle under normal circumstances, continues to boom in his ear, “Morita, two o’clock.”  
Morita answers, “Got ‘em...fuck, four more. Make that six. Where the fuck are they coming from?”  
Bucky frowns, gives a last scan to the outer buildings and, finding nothing, starts to grab his essentials.  
_thump thump thump_  
Thor’s low voice, “Five more on our six. Don’t bunch up.”  
At that Bucky starts to break into a run. If he can get in behind the fighters closing in and clear the way, the team could evac the way they came, “On my way.”  
_thump thump thump_  
Gabe’s smooth voice answers back, “Take your time, Sarge...fuckin’ check those corners Dum Dum, you asshole! On second thought, Sarge, you had better hurry the fuck up.”  
Bucky reaches the alley, raises his rifle and sweeps along walls and around corners. A continuous litany of curses streams from his earpiece.  
_thump thump thump_  
He turns a corner and finds three of the fighters blocking his team in.  
_CRACK_  
He immediately takes one out and ducks behind the wreckage of an old taxi as return fire sprays around him. He presses into the ground as scrambles to free the pistol strapped onto his side.  
_thump thump thump_  
Dum Dum over the comms, “Fuck, Dernier! Morita can you get your ass over here, Dernier took a hit.”  
Bucky inhales and launches himself from behind the taxi to a doorway a few meters away, taking down another fighter along the way _\- Faster, godammit Barnes -_ He presses his body into the concrete wall.  
_thump thump thump_  
He waits a beat and whips around the corner shooting at the third fighter between him and his team. A sharp pain explodes on the side of his head and he drops to the ground. His hand comes up protectively to cover his ear, his other hand holds his weapon, never wavering. When he pulls away the hand over his ear it is covered in blood. The bullet had grazed his ear, fucking up his comms and hearing on his left side in the process. He yanks out the mangled comm piece and backs into the doorway.  
_thump thump thump_  
He fumbles in his pockets for a patch to cover the bleeding from his ear that has started trickling down his neck.  
_thump thump thump_  
How many had Thor said were behind them? _\- Three down, two to go -_ As Bucky raises his rifle again and moves back into the side road he can hear a distinctive deep yell from somewhere through the drifting smoke in front of him _\- Thor -_ He moves quickly through the haze.  
_thump thump thump_  
He rounds another corner.  
_thump thump thump_  
Thor is dragging an unresponsive Gabe backwards using only one leg himself, the other soaked in red.  
_thump thump thump_  
Bucky looks up in the direction from which his friends are retreating in time to see a burst of fire.  
_thump thump THUMP_  
He fires but something pummels him in the chest and he falls onto his back, curving his body to keep his gun trained on the fucker _\- who just shot me!_  
_THUMP THUMP THUMP_  
He lines up a shot but cannot inhale or exhale and the incessant pounding reverberating through his body is throwing him off.  
_THUMP THUMP THUMP_  
He suddenly thinks of Steve, pulled against his chest _\- Breathe you little punk, match my breaths ok? Try and feel me, in and out, yeah that’s right, in and out -_ He can feel Stevie’s ribs under his palm, in and out...  
_THUMP THUMP THUMP_  
He takes a shaky breath in but his chest just blossoms in pain. He takes the shot anyway and the fighter falls, but not before throwing something in their direction.  
_THUMP THUMP THUMP_  
Bucky still can’t breathe and he clutches at his chest.  
_THUMP THUMP THUMP_  
Thor is gesturing wildly at him but he can’t seem to move. Fuck, his chest feels like it’s burning and the pounding is getting louder and louder…  
_THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP THUMP_

Bucky bolts upright in bed, choking on air. His chest feels tight and he can’t seem to get a breath in. And still that ceaseless pounding. 

_THUMP THUMP THUMP_

He bangs a fist on his chest as he looks around wildly, the eerie glowing smoky haze dissipating leaving behind the shadows of his hotel room. He hits his chest harder and forces a weezy inhale. 

_THUMP THUMP THUMP_

Someone is pounding on his door. He rubs his flesh hand over his face while his prosthetic clenches the sheets. He suppresses the desire to strangle whoever is on the other side of the door _\- the hotel had better be on fire -_ and gets to his feet shakily. He lumbers to the door while the thumping continues. A whispered ‘Barnes!’ comes through the door _\- Gilbert -_ he disarms the traps and flings the door open. Whatever he looks like, it must be pretty frightening as Erin takes a step back and is momentarily speechless. He lets out a small growl and she seems to come back to herself. She raises her hands in desperation and lets them fall, “My notebook is missing. Someone has stolen it….Is that a picture of Steve?”

_Well shit_.

________________

They sit side by side on a bench along the green just outside the hotel. Bucky has his hoodie pulled over his head and his hands jammed in his pockets. Erin pulls her sweater tighter around her body despite the warm night air. Poor Dr. Snuggles is in a permanent headlock under one of her arms.

Erin looks down at her shoes, “I’m sorry I lost the notebook.”

Bucky snaps back, “You didn’t lose it. One of those dirty fuckers stole it.”

“Either way, they probably know all about our suspicions.”

Bucky shakes his head decisively, “Doesn’t matter. With the death looks I’ve been throwing Gary all weekend he would have to be especially thick not to get the hint.”

They both laugh at that and agree that he probably is that thick. Erin lets a few beats of silence go before bringing up the photo she had noticed earlier. She opens her mouth to say something, then changes her mind. She lets out a tired sigh, “I’m homesick.”

Bucky sinks down lower on the bench and stretches his legs out. His voice is so quiet, she almost misses it, “I miss Steve.”

Erin looks over at him. He looks younger somehow, vulnerable in a way the Sarge has never looked. She makes a decision, “I miss Holtz. Alot.” 

Bucky looks up at her and nods in understanding. He stands up and offers his hand to pull her to her feet, “Don’t worry about tomorrow. We’ll root out the bad seeds and save the day. Then we can go home.”

They start walking back to the hotel to get those last fleeting hours of sleep.

### The Showstopper...

The next morning finds Bucky and Erin standing on one side of the Tent glaring across at Gary and Jonathan who face them with similarly defensive postures. Diana looks from one side to the other, then heads towards the back counter and the electric kettle, “I think I’ll make some tea.” Her tone is diplomatic, but it is obvious that she notices that something is wrong and she will try to fix it.

When the hosts arrive, the stand off breaks up and everyone moves to their benches, trying to act normally. Erin unrolls the plans for her haunted gingerbread house and berates herself for not taking the time to review the logistics. She smiles to herself as she goes over the little touches Steve and Holtz had added to her original concept. The tentacles curving their way out of the second story window are definitely Holtz, while the detailed carving on the monsters and ghouls screams of Steve’s propensity for going all out. She palms the Swiss Army knife that Holtz had given her and hopes she can execute their collective vision, while keeping an eye on the real-life fiends she’s competing against.

Bucky unrolls his own blueprints and goes over the battle plan for his biscuit sculpture. It is an iconic scene from his favourite film, Aliens. The towering Queen faces off against a gingerbread Ripley, holding a smaller gingerbread kid in one arm and a gingerbread flamethrower in the other. Between the arch nemeses is a field of alien eggs in various states of hatching. Out of the one closest to its victims, the spidery legs of a face-sucker emerges. The scene is set against a backdrop of flames. There are a lot of elements, but he can immediately see where Holtz added some stability to his original idea for the queen alien. Steve’s touches are everywhere from Ripley’s iconic curly hair and 80’s sneakers done in icing to the mottling on the outside of the eggs _\- Kinda gross, but soooooo coooool -_ If he can pull this off he doesn’t care what the judges say, his inner nerd has already won.

All too soon the show starts and everyone gets busy. They have four hours to complete their biscuit sculpture and they will need every last second.

Bucky is so uncomfortable having his back to his enemies that he takes to working from the side of his bench, so he can see everyone in the room. Sure, his back is to the screen windows of the Tent, but they are not far from dense forest and it is the lesser of two evils. He glances over at Jonathan's bench and catches a glimpse of his sketches. They are of towering snow covered mountains, a gingerbread train racing along one edge. The colours are very stark and something about it just puts him right off so he looks away.

As Erin puts her first batch of gingerbread in the oven she has a moment to look over at Diana’s bench. Diana has some really striking sketches done in watercolour for her plans. It is a scene of tiered hills and what seem like ancient buildings with graceful curves and elaborate details. Before she can stop herself, she blurts out, “Where is that?”

Diana just looks up and gives her a radiant smile while continuing to work on more batter, “It is home.”

“Wow. Home is beautiful.”

“Thank you.” She gestures to Erin's plans, “Those are amazing! Is that home?”

Erin snorts in surprise. She covers her mouth, but is smiling, “Yes, sort of. I’m a physicist, but I also study the supernatural with my friend. My best friend, really. Her name is Holtz and she’s brilliant.” Erin shuts her mouth against her babbling. Diana is giving her a friendly smile, so she continues to talk about her home, Holtz and her lab. Diana is interested and asks questions, throwing in some of her own stories of friends back home. It just feels really nice to talk, and seems to relieve some of the tension due to homesickness. That is until Jonathan gives a desperate scream from his bench.

Erin just glares at him, but Diana rushes over to see what is wrong. Erin decides she had better follow just in case.

Bucky is shooting daggers from his eyes, “That’s not ‘a little too much water’, Jon. You’re trying to make royal icing, not some sort of f’ing sugar soup!”

Jonathan looks to Diana with wide, watery eyes, “I don’t know why this keeps happening to me, I guess I just won’t be able to ice any of my sculpture. And there’s so much of it I have to do.”

Erin can see Diana is about to offer her help when something like doubt crosses her eyes. She looks at Jonathan, questioning, “But how can that be, Jonathan? You were the one to help Don in the first week with his icing, when we were making the three tiered cakes?”

Diana doesn’t look away, waiting for him to answer. Jonathan flaps his mouth open and closed, unable to think of a good excuse. Bucky crosses his arms and looks triumphant, “Having trouble remembering your lines, champ?”

Jonathan sputters and looks to Gary, who is watching the situation though pretending he is still working on his cookie tower. Mel and Sue are about to diffuse the situation when Jonathan blurts out, “It was his idea!” Everyone looks to where he is pointing, straight at Gary.

Gary looks up, eyes furious, “Shut UP, you little twerp!”

Erin takes a step towards him, pointing her finger, “No, you shut up, you absolute creep.” Gary looks affronted but says nothing.

Diana puts her hands on her hips, ignoring the comments from the hosts trying to get everyone back to work. She straightens even taller than her already impressive six feet and towers over Jonathan, “And what idea is that, exactly?”

Jonathan cowers under her gaze. Gary is glaring at him but he can’t look away from the Amazonian, “The idea to take out the competition. One by one. Until it was just us and someone we could beat.”

As Bucky leans forward, Jonathan leans away, “I can see why that asshole,” he points to Gary, “would need help getting to the final. But you? What was in it for you?”

Jonathan looks down at the floor, “Money…. And a time share in Ibiza.”

All eyes turn to Gary, but instead of backing down he puffs out his chest and declares, “Oh please! You’re going to believe that snivelling brown nose?” He turns to Erin, “Come on, Doc. I thought we had a connection.”

Erin literally feels the bile rise into her throat and gags. She waves a dismissive hand at Gary, “You are more delusional than the flat-earthers.”

Sue chimes in with a, “Yeah, those fucking round Earth deniers! Poor ignorant bastards.” She and Mel flap their hands at the camera crew, continuing to swear and make the footage unusable.

Diana looks down at Jonathan, “You should be ashamed.” She points to Gary, “You should be ashamed!”

Erin gently takes her arm and drags her back to their benches, “Come on, guys, let’s not waste another second on these two jerks.”

Bucky comes by a few minutes later with some cups of tea. Diana takes a cup like she has been thirsting in the desert, “Thank you, Bucky. You didn’t have to do that.”

Bucky just shrugs and hands Erin her cup. They clink mugs and try to hide their satisfied smirks behind taking a sip.

Diana looks back and forth between them, eyes narrowed, “You knew something, didn’t you.”

Bucky just shrugs again and Erin bites her lips to keep from smiling too hard. Diana just grabs them both, one in each arm and squeezes. She whispers, “Thank you. I know you two look out for eachother, and I am really honoured that you include me.”

Erin tries not to get teary eyed and Bucky tries unsuccessfully not to look too uncomfortable at the praise. Erin punches him on the arm, “Careful Barnes, it might look like you care.” She shakes her hand in pain, “Ouch, wrong arm. You been working out?”

Bucky just shakes his head and laughs, “Ha ha, Gilbert.” He looks from her to Diana and orders, “Get back to work.”

“Yes, Sarge!”  
“Yes, Sarge!”

________________

The next two hours pass in a haze of barely contained panic. After the excitement from the outing of Jonathan and Gary as dirty, rotten, scoundrels, all of the bakers realized that they were still in a competition. The last hour is dominated by careful sculpting, icing and decorating. Diana, Bucky and Erin help eachother hold their gingerbread pieces in place while they desperately pray that their icing or caramel will hold everything together. Everyone is so concentrated on their work that Jonathan’s yell in the last ten minutes causes a chorus of shrieks around the room, which will be vehemently denied afterwards.

Gary moves away from Jonathan’s bench giving an unrepentant, “Oops.”

Host Sue deflates as she looks after him, clearly disappointed, “Oh Gary, really?”

Erin goes over beside Bucky as they inspect the damage that Gary has wreaked upon Jonathan’s otherwise pristine icing covered Italian Alps. The train is twisted and ruined, half of it hanging out over the banks of snow in the ravine below. A hastily made gingerbread man with J written in icing on his belly lies at the bottom of the ravine.

Bucky looks up sharply at Gary with his most piercing, stone cold glare, “That is morbid, man. Fucked. Up.”

For the first time Gary looks a bit nervous, but he goes back to his bench and pointedly ignores them all. Mel looks at her watch and does a double take, “Two minutes, bakers! TWO MINUTES!”

And with that, everyone rushes back to finish what they can before the judges come in.

________________

In the end it turned out pretty well.

Bucky’s theme does not go over very well with Paul, but Mary is extremely impressed by the Queen alien, which stands tall and strong above the scene. The Alien eggs look, “revolting” as Paul puts it. “Which is precisely the point,” retorts Mary. The bake itself is delicious and Paul is impressed by the flavour of the amaretto alien eggs. For all his bluster about their looks, he breaks off three of them and stuffs them in his mouth before Bucky can snatch his sculpture away to safety.

Both judges are quite impressed with Erin’s haunted house. Paul admits that he thought she had been playing it safe with her choice of theme, but the variety of the monsters and detailed carving work on the house itself are very impressive. Mary finds the gingerbread ‘very good, but lacking just a smidgen of spice.” Erin brings her bake back to her bench, visibly relieved with the result and immediately snaps off a fondant tentacle to munch on. She looks over to Bucky and returns his thumbs up.

Diana’s sculpture of her home, Themyscira, is beautiful and almost flawless except for one building that collapsed under the heat of the Tent. Mary points out that the ruins fit in with the ancient architecture. Paul takes a sample from the fallen bits of biscuit and immediately warns Diana again that she has to watch her flavours.

Paul grimaces at Jonathan’s sculpture and Mary declares it to be “rather disturbing, isn’t it.” Paul takes a bite and immediately spits it out, “You’ve used salt instead of sugar. Kinda late in the game to be making a mistake like that, mate.” Jonathan looks truly shocked. Erin clamps a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh. She looks over to Bucky who is hiding his face behind his hair and biting his lips.

Last is Gary, whose ambitious sculpture of the Empire State Building looks more like the product of a “kindergarten playgroup” according to Paul. Mary immediately wacks Paul in the arm and tells him that her grandson makes towers straighter than this one. Paul just fixes his steely gaze at Gary who’s face increasingly reddens, “I’m disappointed, mate.” Gary looks as though a vein is about to burst from his neck as he makes his way to the back bench. Everyone makes sympathetic noises at him, but he just clenches his teeth.

Erin is so happy that they were at least able to thwart Jonathan and Gary’s nefarious plans against Diana that she misses the announcement of Star Baker. She realizes something is up when she is suddenly enveloped by 200 pounds of ex-military cyborg. Being hugged by Bucky is so unprecedented that she thinks hysterically _\- Am I dead? Did I die? -_ When he pulls back he is smiling. With teeth _\- I AM dead_.

“You deserve it, Gilbert.” Huh?

Then she is surrounded by six feet of Amazonian and two bouncing comedians who are all congratulating her. She looks back at Bucky and mouths I’m Star Baker?

He rolls his eyes, but nods in the affirmative.

She gives in to the joyous jumping and let’s herself believe it _\- Star Baker! Just wait until I tell Holtz._

________________

Bucky taps his foot impatiently until he can see the line of taxi’s coming down the road to pick up the contestants and take them away. Erin stands beside him equally as impatient but much better at hiding it. The wait has been fraught with tense silence. Neither Jonathan nor Gary would be joining them next week after their disastrous showstopper performance. Diana had heard from one of the producers that the judges had gotten wind of what those two had really been up to, which had cemented their decision.

Diana hands her bag over to the first taxi driver and turns to Bucky and Erin. She gives them both a hug, winks and says, “See you in the final,” before climbing in the cab and leaving.

Erin turns to Bucky, “Oh my god. We’re in the final.”

Bucky looks back, his eyes round with surprise though his words are sure, “Well, yeah. Of course. I mean, we have two blond minions on our side, can we really be that surprised?”

One of the producers comes over and hands back their cell phones. She looks over at Jonathan and Gary who are walking towards them, “Ugh. Those two deserve whatever they get.” She beams at them, “Just wait until you see what we got on camera.”

They both grimace, but tense up as Gary stops in front of them. He leans in to Erin, too close as usual, “I never really liked you anyways. And you’ll never win the Bake Off, but have fun trying.” He’s about to give a two-fingered salute to the both of them when Erin draws back her arm and punches him full on the nose. The resulting crunch is very satisfying.

Gary cries out and covers his nose with his hands, a stream of expletives spewing out of his mouth. Jonathan pulls him unsympathetically towards their waiting cab and mutters, “Stop whining, you asshole. You still owe me you know.” He pulls out Erin’s black notebook and throws it in their direction.

Bucky neatly snatches it out of the air and beams proudly down at Erin, “Nice right hook.”

Erin massages her hand and takes the proffered book, “Thanks.” Her phone starts to vibrate with unread messages and she fishes it out of her pocket. “Huh. Abby and Patty couldn’t get a hold of Holtz this weekend. They tried five times.” She looks over at Bucky who is looking down at the screen of his own phone with a darkened expression. A sense of foreboding overwhelms her, “What is it?”

Bucky reads the message, “It’s from Sam. He says, ‘I’m sure everything’s fine, but could you let me know when you see Steve and Holtzmann’.”

Erin spins around and raises her arm, “Taxi!”

## Part 5: Home

Holtzmann and Steve make it back to her lab just as the sun goes down. They find themselves sprinting down the hallway, Steve holding the ghost trap dangling at arms length in front of him. Hours earlier, as they had driven into Lincolnshire the happy green light on the trap had turned yellow. Then the smoke started.

Holtzmann fumbles with her key ring trying to unlock the door.

“Holtzmann.”

“I’m on it Rogers.”

“Holtz!”

Holtz looks over at the trap. The light has changed from yellow to red and the smoke is now a putrid green colour. She turns back to the door and keeps going through the keys until she finds the right one. They burst into the lab, surprising Kevin.

“Assistant Kevin, you read my mind. Help Steve! We need to prep the transmorphic field generator STAT!”

Kevin hold up his phone, “Actually, Sam sent me a text message. He thought you two scallywags would get yourselves into trouble.” He takes the smoking trap from a grateful Steve, who doubles over, hands on knees trying to catch his breath. Thor lays a gentle hand on his back, “I see that he was right.”

Steve straightens up and claps Thor on the back, “You are a sight for sore eyes.”

A crash of equipment from the back of the room grabs their attention. Steve is about to call out to see if Holtz is alright when the trap suddenly starts beeping angrily. “Holtz! Whatever you’re going to do, make it fast!”

Holtz burst out of the back and beckons for them to come, “It’s ready! I hope.”

At the back of the lab in a room off to the side is a wall covered in lights, switches and meters. What looks like a garbage chute is open, and waiting. Holtz puts on some thermal gloves and grabs the trap. The beeping is now coming so fast it sounds like a continuous screech. “Shit shit shit shit.” She slides the trap in and closes the latch while yelling at Steve, “Throw the switch!”

Steve looks at the array of switches in front of him, “Which one!?!”

Holtz points to the far right, “The the third from the end!”

Steve puts all his weight on the ridiculously huge lever and it slams down. Holtz, Steve and Kevin stand back away from the machine as they hear a large thunk followed by a hiss. The sounds abruptly stop and the green light under “Containment Field” turns on.

Holtz turns to Steve and Kevin, “Well, there was a non-zero possibility that that wasn’t going to work!”

Steve shakes his head and turns to walk back into the main lab, “I don’t want to know.”

________________

Kevin insists that they call Sam to let him know that everything is fine. They don’t even have to put it on speaker to hear the lecture on his fragile nerves and to never make him worry about them like that again. When the call is over, Thor bids them goodnight and promises Holtz that he’ll see her bright and early the next morning.

Holtz and Steve collapse on some stools by her main workbench. Holtz reaches out and presses the Cookie Monster button. They much in silence, each contemplating the events of the past few days.

Steve reaches for another cookie, “Do you think Erin and Bucky are back yet?”

They both pull out their phones simultaneously. In the excitement, they had never thought to check them. Or plug them in.

Holtz drops hers on the bench. “Dead. I’ll charge it when we get back to the house.”

Steve thinks for a minute, “You know what we should do? I mean, now that I know I still have a chance with Bucky, I just want to do something … big.”

Holtz nods in agreement, “Yeah … something to show how much they mean to us.”

“That we take their baking seriously.” Steve stands up, “I’ve heard Bucky say on more than one occasion that he wouldn’t mind starting his own business. Something to do between being a lab monkey for you and Stark.” At Holtz’s affronted look he amends, “He probably said ‘collaborator’ and I just heard wrong.”

Holtz stands up next to him, an idea forming in her mind. “I’ve never seen Erin so happy as when she successfully makes the perfect sponge. I bet she would love an excuse to cut down her time in the physics department.”

They grin at eachother, a plan is forming. Steve turns around and rustles through the supplies next to the drafting table, “We should design a sign!”

Holtz bolts to the opposite side of the lab where the heavy machinery is stored, “I think I have some sheet metal! We could laser cut a company logo on it!”

They start to get to work, reenergized by the desire to surprise their friends and would-be lovers. Used to ignoring their bodies and working all night while their ideas are fresh, It doesn’t take long until they have a prototype. Without Bucky around, Holtz uses her second favourite robot, Susan, to hold the metal sign while she applies the handheld sander to smooth down the edges.

“I think I have some leftover spray paint in my office, from that time we were protesting campus drinking water quality. I’ll just run over and get it.”

Holtz doesn’t look away from her work and shouts over the grinding, “I think you mean shuffle over!”

When she doesn’t hear the expected indignant response she glances backwards. Steve is halfway to the door of the lab but standing stock still, squinting his eyes towards the back. She shuts off the grinder and pushes up her goggles. “What is it?” She looks back and a pale vapour is coming from the back room housing the ecto containment unit. Before she can react a loud hissing noise crescendos rapidly. “Rogers! Duck!” She throws herself to the floor and looks up to see Steve has done the same.

And then the lab explodes.

________________

Holtz and Steve stand chagrined facing a livid Bucky and Erin. Susan chooses that moment to slowly wheel over to Bucky and hand him what remains of the metal sign. He takes the pieces and holds them up, “Gilbert and … Barnivan? Baked … goods.” He looks at the pieces in confusion. Then looks back up and straight at Steve. All the anger has melted out of him.

Holtz points to the sign, “Like Gibert and Sullivan, but you know. Barnes.” She looks nervously up at Erin, but Erin is looking back with an unreadable expression _\- Is she happy? Is she going to cry? -_ Holtz is very confused until an alarm starts ringing. She looks to Steve whose eyes already resemble saucers,“Dr. Zola!”

Both Erin and Bucky chime, “What?” before following them to the back of the lab.

Steve throws over his shoulder, “We caught a ghost!”

Bucky and Erin look at eachother _\- Whaaaaaa?_

Holtz adds, “But the field generator may have been too much for the circuits.” They all crowd into the containment chamber as Holz clears away the leftover smoke with her hand, “Ah ha! It was the secondary generator that blew. It’s on the wall connecting to the rest of the lab, hence the destruction. I knew I should have insisted on a 20 inch steel enclosure.”

Erin stands beside her, looking at the containment unit, “Seems intact.” She examines a gauge, “But the quantum bifurcation generator is losing power quickly.”

Holtz grabs what looks like a screwdriver from or of her many pockets, “I just have to find the right release…” She opens a panel and starts flipping switches.

Bucky looks down at Steve, “You mind telling me what’s going on?” Bucky doesn’t do panic, but he’s very close to grabbing Steve and running out of there before something blows again.

Steve shrugs helplessly, “I don’t know all the science stuff. All I know is that there was an evil floating dude haunting the house at the Bake Off and we caught him and put him in there! It was pretty gross actually.”

Erin turns to Holtz, “You were there? At the Bake Off?”

Holtz nods but continues flipping switches. “Yup,” she confirms, popping the ‘p’. Whatever she is doing it is working. One by one the alarms turn off and the containment field indicator glows green once again.

Erin steps closer to Holtz as she straightens up, “Do you think it’ll hold?” Holtz nods.

Bucky puts an arm around Steve’s shoulders and leans into him, “Let’s go home.”

________________

When they get back to Fury’s End everyone is still asleep. Erin and Holtz head back inside while Bucky hangs back with Steve.

“Come on, Stevie,” he gestures to the bench in front of the house, “I want to talk to you.” He sits and pulls a nervous Steve down next to him. He sighs and says in a gentle voice, “I don’t know what you two were up to this weekend, and I don’t think I can wrap my head around ghost hunting at this hour, but I wanna know about one thing before we go inside and collapse. What was that sign for?”

Steve looks down at his hands _\- Now or never, Mighty Rogers, go for it -_ He musters his courage and looks up at Bucky, chin defiant. He ignores the way Bucky’s eyes dip down to his mouth and that goddamn dimple in his chin when he smiles. He takes a deep breath and spits it out, “A couple’a weeks ago, Holtzmann and I made a plan. A plan of action to,” He dips his chin a little and swallows, “to make you fall in love me.”

Bucky looks surprised and ice starts to form in Steve’s chest _\- If nothing else, at least you told the truth. Fuck._

“A few weeks? And this whole time you’ve been trying to get me to fall in love with you?” Bucky shakes his head disbelievingly and Steve’s heart drops into his stomach. “Oh Stevie.” Bucky take a slow even breath before speaking again, "I know I am different from how I was, ya know, before."

"No, Bucky, I..."

Bucky ploughs his hands through his hair in frustration, "Goddammit Rogers, will you just listen for once? Stop thinking and listen to me."

Steve clamps his mouth shut and bites his lips together for good measure. Bucky lets out a chuckle as his eyes linger on Steve's mouth. Embarrassed, Steve releases his lips and knows he doesn't imagine Bucky swallowing hard, gaze still fixated on his mouth. Steve feels breathless, "You were saying?"

Bucky looks up and smiles, tipping his head towards Steve, "I was saying that I am happy. I am happy here, now, with you." He is beaming and Steve for sure knows he's lost his breath now, he feels light and lost in Bucky's glow but anchored at the same time. Bucky chuckles again and lays his hand lightly on the side of Steve's throat, "Breathe, Stevie." Bucky's hand slides down over his heart as he leans in close "Breathe, you little punk."

And all at once Steve's lungs fill with air and he is smiling back at Bucky and if he felt light before, he feels full to bursting now _\- I can't contain this -_ and then Steve all but launches himself at Bucky throwing his arms around his neck and mashing his lips to his. He can feel Bucky's smile, feel the rumble of laughter through his chest, but Steve knows it is from happiness because he is laughing too. They pull back but keep their foreheads pressed close, wrapped up in eachother, "I love you, you jerk, you know that?"

"Yeah, I know Stevie, I know it. I'm sorry I wouldn't let myself feel it before, but I think I knew, because I do too."

They can't seem to seem to stop clinging to eachother and laughing through lingering kisses. Eventually, exhaustion wins out and Bucky, with a monstrous yawn, stands up, pulling Steve with him, “Come on, let’s go to bed.”

Steve can’t stop smiling, “I’m not even sleepy.” At the look Bucky throws him he gives in, “Okay, but just one little stop first.”

________________

Erin holds out her hand until Holtz takes it, “The sun won’t be up for another couple of hours. Let’s try and get some sleep.”

Holtz wordlessly agrees _\- She’s holding my hand. Don’t freak out, it’s not the best time. Well, maybe the first time while leading up the stairs to our rooms. I mean my room. Okay, we’re going into my room now. OK code red! The Dating Manual said nothing about this. OK just CHILL -_ Holtz stands in the middle of her room and watches Erin as she closes the door and stands in front of her.

She starts grinning, which makes Holtz start grinning _\- Whaaaat is going on? -_ Then Erin breaks into a huge smile, “I won Star Baker.”

Holtz claps her hands over her mouth and screams into it so she won’t wake up anyone in the house. She jumps up and down and when she stops screaming, throws her arms around Erin’s neck. She whispers fiercely into her ear, “I knew you could do it!”

Erin squeezes her back hard, “Thank you, Holtzy.”

They don’t let go until Erin pulls back, “You have exploded lab bits all over you.”

Holtz pulls back and is about to apologize when Erin turns away and started looking around her room. It doesn’t take long before she finds what she is looking for and turns back to Holtz.

“You have some soot smudges.” Erin reaches out and holds Holtz' cheek gently, gliding her thumb across her cheekbone making a clean spot. Holtz can't even breathe as Erin uncaps her lip balm one handed. She holds her steady and takes a step even closer, crowding Holtz against the wall. She gently glides the coloured balm across her lips and all Holtz can do is close her eyes and feel their breaths mingle. When Erin is done she must have put the lip balm away because the next thing she knows both of Erin's hands are on either side of her face, fingers smoothing loose strands of hair and brushing away the remnants of the mess they had made in the lab. Holtz feels a soft blow over her eyes, no doubt clearing away any dust left clinging to her lashes. Her eyes drift open and Erin's smile is sudden and dizzying, "There she is."

Holtz smiles back and rests her hands on Erin's wrists, "I'm here, it's me. Always me."

Erin nods and leans impossibly closer, "I know." And then they're kissing and Holtz's mind is blissfully blank. No fretting, no panic, no internal monologue or Dating Manual tips. Just the feel of Erin under her hands and mouth and

_KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK RAP RAP RAP_

"Holtz! Holtzmann! Holtzyeeyeeyee! The plan worked!"

Erin reluctantly pulls away from Holtz and licks her lips humming appreciatively, "Mmmmmm honey."

Holtz just bangs her head back against the wall Erin had finally! and gloriously! kissed her against, "I'll be there in a fucking nanosecond Rogers, hold your goddammed horses!"

Indignant muttering can be heard through the door followed by a gentle, “It wasn’t your plan that made us happen, you little punk. Come on, let them be.”

They listen to Bucky dragging Steve away and the sound of a bedroom down the hall closing.

Erin gently pulls Holtz to her and lands another kiss before pulling back. She can’t help the feeling of glee at the dreamy look on Holtz’s face, but her curiosity is getting the better of her, “Now, tell me all about this ghost.”

Holtz blurts out, “I love you.” Her mouth is frozen open, not quite believing what she just said out loud. When Erin starts to smile and laugh, she has the sinking feeling she’s made a mistake. Then, “I know, I love you too. Now come on,” she pulls Holtz towards the bed, “I guess we can talk about ghost busting tomorrow.”

## Epilogue: Where are they now?

The lawn between the Bake Off tents and the great house is covered in picnic blankets. The friends and family of the final bakers are scattered around in various states of waiting. Natasha and Sam are playing cards while Clint lounges with his head resting on Nat’s leg. Lucky the dog, runs between the blankets accepting belly scratches wherever he can get them. Patty and Kevin wear matching Def Leppard muscle shirts and practice the victory dance they will perform for the winner. Abby lounges on the blanket nearby, offering occasional coaching. Logan leans against a tree chatting with Nick Fury while Charles gets into an animated discussion with Tony Stark. A large group of women just as tall and smiling as Diana lounge around in various positions, chatting. A few have gone over to Patty and Thor to join in their dance while others have taken up sparring with tree branches. A tall man with long dark hair and a wild west hat sits listening to the animated chatter of one fellow with a red fez and another dressed in a kilt. Steve and Holtz are sitting on the blanket furthest from the house itself. When the final bakers emerge from the Tent, arms laden with baskets full of bakes, they are the first to jump up and cheer.

When Bucky, Erin and Diana finish distributing their wares amongst the guests they each go to sit amongst their friends. Holtz jumps into Erins arms, wrapping her legs around her waist. Erin tightens her arms around Holtz and stops from falling over by spinning them around. Holtz buries her face in Erin’s neck, kissing her and making her giggle. Bucky flops down next to Steve immediately putting his head in his lap. Steve bends over to give him a kiss as Bucky reaches up to pull him down closer. Steve immediately starts running his hands through Bucky’s long hair, making him stretch cat-like over the blanket.

The camera pulls out, showing Mel, Sue and the judges approaching the party picnicking on the grass. Erin, Bucky and Diana stand together, holding white-knuckled hands, facing the judges together. The judges go on to explain how the decision had been really tough, the competition had been pretty intense in the end, but the cake plate goes to … Diana!

Diana throws an arm around Bucky and Erin’s necks and pulls them in close. They cling to eachother while Diana cries. Bucky pulls back, reassuring her while Erin wipes her eyes. They congratulate eachother, accept their prizes and turn back to the party.

The screen goes dark and starts going through the lineup of bakers, explaining where they are now. Near the end, it shows a shot of Jonathan and Gary right after the gingerbread train crash explaining that Jonathan still bakes in his hometown and Gary is currently being investigated for fraud regarding false claims of winning non-existent baking competitions around the country. Next the camera is zoomed in on a banner that reads _Up to No Good_ with a cartoon logo of Erin and Bucky, arms crossed and back to back, holding what looks like baking utensils made from spare parts around Holtz’s lab. The camera pulls out to show Steve up on a ladder, painting the finishing touches on the logo. Holtz holds the ladder while Erin and Bucky stand in front of a food truck to which the banner is tied along the side. The caption explains that the two friends and bakers have started a business together that currently sells and bakes for local causes. The camera cuts to the four friends, all wearing suits and bow ties, standing at what looks like an altar set up in the community gardens. Luis is standing behind them with arm raised, officiating what the caption describes as a double wedding. All the friends and family from the Bake Off final can be seen crowding around the edges of the frame. Luis lowers his arm, appears to shout Go! and the couples immediately kiss. The screen irises out on a heart shape and fades into a shot of Diana bringing out a cake to her waiting friends and family on what is recognizably the island of Themyscira. The caption reads that she was just happy to be able to go home again. The screen fades to black as the credits roll. 

Luis shuts off the television at the end of the bar and stuffs the last piece of plum crumble pie into his mouth _\- Oh man, I am dyin’ from bliss, this pie is writ from the gods yo! -_ Unable to wait until he’s finished chewing, he’s just got to get his idea out, “Ya know what boss? We should go on that show. Tag team stylz, know what I’m sayin? With your mad skills in the kitchen and my proclivity with the 40 proof we’d have those judges wrapped around our fingers ... OW!”

Fox snaps her bar towel at her talkative and damn unstoppable bartender and he twists away going for his own towel, “Get back to work, Luis.” She admonishes him, but chuckles as she turns back to the kitchen.

**Author's Note:**

> Now that I'm done writing, I've got a gingerbread haunted house to make (this one'll be for you, Frau-argh!)


End file.
